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No. 676 •Author of^^Thoth” etc. 30 Cents 


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TOXAR 


Bomonce 


BY THE AUTHOK OF 

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T O X A R 


H IRoinance 


\ 


BY THE AUTHOR OF 

“THOTH” “A DREAMER OF DREAMS” ETC. 


0 



NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
1890 




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I 


CONTENTS, 


PROLOGUE. 

' PAGE 

By Xenophilos, ^the Celebrated Philosopher and 
Physician 1 

I. 

on APT EE 

1. The Banquet and the Tomb ........ 8 

II. Antinous as Orator 17 

III. The Man of Means 24 

IV. The New Colony . 32 

V. The Famine 39 

II. 

VI. Pride of Tyranny 46 

VII. A Free Wanderer 57 

VIII. The Doom of Hermione 64 

IX. Antinous and the Man of Means 70 

X. A Broken Snare 74 

XI. New Gods 80 

XII. Velda 87 

III. 

XIII. Toxar and Velda 91 

XIV. Telemos 96 

XV. Telemos and Velda 103 

XVI. Priest and Priestess 107 

XVII. A New Ransom 113 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


OHAPTKE PAGE 

XVIII. Hope 120 

XIX. The Living Jewel 125 

IV. 

XX. A True Diviner 133 

XXL Love and Fear 141 

XXII. A Sla\t:’s Obedience 148 

XXIII. The Vengeance op Atossa 156 

XXIV. A Dead Charm 163 

XXV. Tardy Fate 166 

Epilogue 171 




T O X A U 


PROLOGUE. 

BY XENOPHILOS, THE CELEBRATED PHILOSOPHER AND 
PHYSICIAN. 

I WAS wearied with discoursing to the young men 
who professed to be my scholars on the mysteries of 
life and the ignorance of man, and I said : ‘‘ I will 
shoot one more shaft, and then for this day the bow 
must be unbent. In my long life* I have learned 
many strange things, and one of the strangest is this : 
youth is the time of narrow disbelief and hardness of 
heart and want of generosity — I mean in the matter of 
opinion, for I know that ye all love me — but every 
day the old man sees new sides to truth and finds new 
marvels in life.” 

Silence fell on the company for a time, and then 
they began to talk in whispers, and at last the youngest 
of the young men, my favorite, spoke on behalf of the 
rest and said : 

Thou hast lived, O Xenophilos, seven times as long 
as the oldest of us, and we are anxious to learn of thy 
wisdom. But our youthful minds easily become tired 


1 


Xenophilos is said to have lived two hundred years. 


2 


TOXAR. 


with weighing heavy reasonings, and oiir weakness 
leads ns into despair, and thus we seem to thee narrow 
and hard and ungenerous when in truth we are only 
weary and perplexed. If, however, as on former oc- 
casions, thou wouldst clothe thy thoughts in the lan- 
guage of fables or even of truthful histories drawn 
from thy abundant experience, then perchance we 
should more readily learn the lesson. Tell us, 0 mas- 
ter, some story suited to our feebleness.” 

And I said to them ; 

“Are ye not ashamed to ask for fables when I offer 
the pure truth 

And they answered with one consent, “ No.” 

“Well, then,” I said, “I will tell you a history” — 
and they expressed their delight — “ but since ye will 
not listen to my pure truth, I shall give you only the 
tangled threads of some strange lives, and ye must 
search out the lessons for yourselves.” 

“Most willingly,” they answered. 

“ But,” I said, “ ye must also share the labor.” 

“ We cannot, O master.” 

“At least,” I said, “ye can furnish me with the 
names of the persons; for although the history I pro- 
pose to relate is true — ” 

At this one or two smiled, and I rebuked them for 
their levity and said : 

“ The story I shall tell is in all essentials true, but> 
for many reasons it is not altogether seemly to speak 
without disguise. And therefore will I use feigned 
names, and change in some respects the characters and 
doings of the persons. But a few still surviving who 
are familiar with the histories of the past which have 


PROLOGUE. 


3 


justly been repressed by a certain noble family would 
readily learn my inner meaning. And now without 
further parley — for I may not speak more fully of my 
reasons — will ye furnish me with names ? Names are 
to the mass of people more than the men and women.” 

“We will provide the names,” they replied, and 
without more ado I said : 

“ And first of all there is in my story a young man 
who after a riotous youth suddenly became a philoso- 
pher and lived a life of virtue ” — here I heard one of 
them whisper, “The tale will be more dull than we 
had hoped for,” and I added — “for a time,” whereat 
the whisperer smiled. 

“Name thou him,” I said to the eldest present. 

“For a time?” he repeated, and said, “Doubtless, 
then, he was no true philosopher. Let him be called 
Antinous.” 

And the name pleased me well. 

“And next I require,” I said to the whisperer, “a 
name for an old man who was full of knowledge and 
withal the perfect idea of a slave.” 

And my scholar said : 

“O master, he shall be called Eumseus, after the 
god-like swine-herd of Odysseus.” 

But I would not let this one escape so easily, and I 
replied : 

“ Not so — for my perfect slave was as full of wiles 
as Odysseus himself, and he was the son of a king, and 
by no means a swine-herd.” 

And my scholar looked abashed, and said : 

“ The son of a king — a perfect slave — and like Odys- 
seus in wiles ? Him I cannot name.” 


4 


TOXAR. 


“ Then,” I said, the story cannot be told, for this 
man is second to none in the narrative,” and I awaited 
his reply. 

And when he could not answer, I said to the young- 
est, my favorite : 

“ In the meantime do thou give thy share, and name 
for me a beautiful barbarian, fierce and courageous as 
an Amazon, and yet withal true and tender. And give 
her a name such as might be borne without dishonor 
by a priestess.” 

And he replied : 

“ Only yesterday, O master, I could have given thee 
an excellent name. But, as I had no use for it, it has 
slipped from my memory. Stay, not altogether — it 
was very like Yelda.” 

“And Yelda,” I said, “she shall be, for the sound 
smacks of ancient simplicity of manners, and the name 
pleases me well.” 

Now one of my scholars had recently been afflicted 
by a violent passion for an evil woman, and he pro- 
fessed, in the bitterness of youth, to hate all women, 
and I said : 

“ O woman-hater, name for me an evil woman.” 

And he replied : 

“ They are all evil, both by nature and by art.” 

“ But even in evil,” I said, “ there are differences, and 
this one loved power far more than sensuous pleasure.” 

“So do they all,” he said, wisely; “but if' she, too, 
was a barbarian — ” 

“ She was a Persian,” I interrupted. 

“Such an one,” he said, “ was Atossa — but any name 
to me — ” 


PROLOGUE. 


5 


“ Peace !” I answered ; ‘‘ tlioii wilt recover thy bal- 
ance long before thou art my age. But Atossa is an 
excellent name for tlie purpose.” 

“ And now,” I said to the whisperer, “ art thou not 
yet ready V’ but he answered, “ No.” 

“ Then,” said I, “ which one of you all believes 
most in the gods and omens and soothsaying and the 
like?” 

And they all laughed, and one said, maliciously : 

“ O master, we are all still too young and, as thou 
didst say, full of narrow disbelief.” 

“ True,” I replied ; “ but for thy wicked wit thou 
shalt give me a name for a man who proved himself 
to be a wonderful soothsayer because he had a power 
never before heard of.” 

“What kind of power, O master?” 

“ That,” I said, “ ye must learn from the story, and 
now I will only say that this man, by his nature, knew 
at once certain things which were quite hidden from 
others.” 

“Was there any outward sign?” he questioned^ 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Then,” he said, “ let him be called Telemos, after 
the soothsayer of the Cyclopes; for assuredly he must 
have had a wonderful eye if he was like his fellows.” 

And they all laughed pleasantly, and I said : 

“ Thou hast hit the mark — by accident — in the very 
centre. Telemos, for my purpose, is also an excellent 
name, though the man was no Cyclops.” 

Then I said again to the whisperer : 

“ Still not ready ? I am now more easy to please, for 
I have been well furnished with names.” 


6 


TOXAR. 


‘‘ Oh, master,” he replied, “ thou hast broken my 
spirit.” 

‘‘ This slave that thou must name had also a broken 
spirit.” 

“I am in despair,” he said, “for this but adds to the 
difficulty ; and the man seems like no one in history or 
fable.” 

“ If that is so,” I said, “ make a name for him as the 
first man named the birds and the beasts and woman.” 

“ Toxar?” he asked, doubtfully, after a long pause. 

“The name,” I answered, “seems sufficiently bar- 
baric and meaningless, and I will accept it in order 
that the narrative may proceed. And for the rest, 
they are but common clay ; a simple maiden who be- 
came too good a wife, and a devoted companion who 
was too good a friend. For these any of the names 
well known to the common people will suffice — Her- 
mione, Glaucus, and so forth. But I have not yet done 
with your assistance; for now my only object is to 
please, since I have failed to instruct. And of telling 
tales there are numberless modes, and I have lived so 
long and learned so much that to me all are equally 
familiar. Ye have given me names, and now ye must 
give me method and style. And, first of all, shall the 
characters explain the actions or the actions the char- 
acters ? and will ye have stately speeches and eloquent 
musings, or rather a rapid succession of events struck 
off with the utmost brevity — in a word, philosophy or 
adventures? Give your votes.” 

And to my shame not one voted for philosophy. 

“ Now,” I said, almost a little angered, “ ye are all 
young, and I can, if ye will, speak in your manner of 


PROLOGUE. 


7 


deaths and broken friendships and the loss of golden 
chances. I can speak just as ye would with jests and 
scoffs and the mocking superiority of youthful wisdom ; 
or I can speak as an old man who has lost the hardness 
of his youth, and has lost also children and friends and 
many a golden hope. Tell me,’’ I said to the young- 
est, my favorite. 

And after a pause he said : “ One thing at least we 
have all learned of thee, O master, that life is only 
born of life, and belief only of belief. And, methinks, 
if Xenophilos himself were to speak that which he be- 
lieved not, and to jest aloud when he inwardly mourned, 
the story would have no life, and though the men and 
women and their deeds were as real as this sunlight, 
yet would the listeners not believe because the narrator 
seemed to believe not.” 

“I have gathered thy meaning,” I answered, “and 
it seems good, though expressed with much tedious- 
ness. But before thou art my age thou wilt learn to 
be brief.” 

Then I dismissed them till the next day, in order 
that I might have time, out of regard for an ancient 
friendship, at least in outward show to veil the sub- 
stance of truth witli the language of fable. 

And on tlie morrow not only my scholars, but a 
number of idle young men, wdm did not even feign 
to love philosophy, assembled to hear the stor3\ And 
but for the names and the veiling, in respect of my 
friend, the narrative is as true as the wonderful histo- 
ries of Herodotus. 


CHAPTER L 

THE BANQUET AND THE TOMB. 

On the day of the beginning of his thirtieth year, An- 
tinoiisgave to his companions a great feast, which may 
well serve as the starting-point of this history. From 
his youth up he had surpassed all the men of his day in 
the riotous magnificence of his living. His dwelling 
excelled, in the splendor of its building and the rich- 
ness and variety of its ornaments, many famous tem- 
ples ; and his wants were ministered to by a multitude 
of slaves, selected from all parts for beauty and just- 
ness of form and skill in devising pleasures. Hor did 
he confine his extravagance to the gratification of his 
own lusts, though these seemed inordinate even in a city 
which had become a by-word for its luxury. He made 
himself the delight of the common people through the 
setting forth of all kinds of shows, masks, and festival 
spectacles. lie sent to the Olympic games seven chari- 
ots, and won the first four prizes, and boasted with 
truth that the native of no other city had ever before 
done the like. And not only was his magnificence un- 
doubtedly great, but by his singular power of oratory 
and persuasion he made it appear even greater. For 
he would affect to make light of his display as if it were 
but a small matter to any one of wealth and station, and 
thus he covertly undermined the popularity of those 
who dared not vie with him in expense. 


THE BANQUET AND THE TOMB. 


9 


In less than ten years of early manhood he had suc- 
ceeded in cloying every appetite with satiety, and in 
dissipating the greater part of the immense fortune 
which he had inherited from his ancestors. 

In order to recover from the surfeit of pleasure and 
restore the natural tone of his mind, he suddenly deter- 
mined to live the life of a philosopher and pursue vir- 
tue, and to restore his fortune he arranged to marry the 
only daughter of the most wealthy man in the city — 
the ancient city, Peirene. 

Marriage and the formation of family ties Antinoiis 
considered as the first step in his new life, and although 
now bent upon moderation in all things, he desired an 
accession of wealth in order to accomplish a great de- 
sign worthy of a statesman and a philosopher. 

But before the new life could be begun, the old life 
must be ended, and Antinous thought it utterly unwor- 
thy of his reputation to slink away from his old com- 
panions and his old pleasures like a coward after a de- 
feat. And, to mark his strength of purpose and to 
make a fitting climax to his riotous youth, he invited 
his friends ta the most luxurious feast that the wit of 
his slaves could devise. The banquet was a prelude to 
the wildest debauchery, and it was near daybreak when 
the new philosopher, with a firm, clear voice, and gest- 
ures that showed no sign of excess, prepared to give a 
final farewell to his drunken companions in a set speech. 
When he had explained his reasons, plans, and purposes, 
in a manner equally satisfactory to himself and unintel- 
ligible to them, he dismissed them as Circe might dis- 
miss her swine. 

Only one friend remained, who from boyhood had 


10 


TOXAR. 


been knit to Antinons by the closest ties of affection, 
and had shared, although with reluctance, for he was 
almost of a contrary nature to his friend, all his perils, 
adventures, and pleasures. The friendship of the two 
was, in truth, altogether of the like and unlike which 
is the rarest and strongest of all. 

The slaves, dancing-girls, and musicians were ordered 
to depart, and the friends were left alone in the desert- 
ed banqueting-chamber. The air was heavy with per- 
fumes, broken garlands were scattered over the soft 
Persian couches, and wine-cups, heedlessly cast down, 
lay in the stains which they had made. 

“ Tell me, Glaucus, was this the most magnificent 
banquet thou hast ever seen?” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

^‘No sign of the coming reign of philosophy and 
reason 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ And I did nothing to mar the enjoyment or re- 
strain the excess ?” 

‘‘ On the contrary.” 

“And in this mode could any one have devised 
more cunningly a series of pleasures and delights?” 

“ I cannot think so.” 

“Then,” said Antinous, “it is full time that I 
changed my style of life, for to me the feast and 
the rioting were as dull and monotonous as the noise 
of the waves of the sea. Methinks I can feel no 
more.” 

“ Nay, say not so. The best of life yet remains ; 
for thy strength is unimpaired, thy courage is as high 
as ever, and the earth is full of danger.” 


THE BANQUET AND THE TOMB. H 

‘‘ Danger — true. I had almost forgotten. But it is 
not yet day — there is still time.” 

Antinous left the apartment and returned in a short 
time with a bar of iron and a lantern carefully shaded. 

“ What is thy design said Glaucus. 

“ To crown this part of my life with the most reck- 
less of deeds.” 

“ Say on, I share it.” 

‘‘ I will take from the tomb the bones of the founder 
of this city — ” 

‘‘ Hush — the walls may not hear this.” 

^‘Even the bones of the mighty hero — ” 

Thou canst not — thou darest not — ” 

“ And I will lay them at the door of our chief ruler, 
my enemy ; thou knowest how I hate him since he 
wronged me in the matter of the slave. 

“ But this is the frenzy of madness, not hatred of one 
man. The bones — the removal — I fear to breathe the 
words — must bring evil to thee and not to thine enemy.” 

‘‘ Prithee,” said Antinous, “ let me finish unfolding 
my plan and then thou canst rate me deaf. I will lay 
these bones at the door of mine enemy with this mes- 
sage: ‘The founder of this city sends by the hands 
of Antinous to his fiabby, soft-fieshed successor these 
bones as a sign.’ ” 

“ The people will tear thee in pieces. Forget this 
folly — the wine has conquered even thee.” 

“Hay, the scheme was devised as I swam in the sea 
in the cool of the morning, seven days ago.” 

“ But I tell thee the people will rend thy limbs.” 

“ That is the danger, and the pleasure will be when 
I beguile them with my oratory.” 


TOXAR. 


‘‘No oratory could save tliee.” 

“ Thou shalt see — but the rest of my plan,’’ and An- 
tinous laughed, “I will not trust even to thine ears. 
The secret is too curious for any one to keep,” and he 
laughed again. 

Glaucus looked upon him with questioning glances 
and said : “ But thyself — surely even thou hast respect 
for the dead — at least for dead heroes ?” 

“Bones are but bones — to the philosopher,” was 
the reply, “and I see no other equal danger ready to 
hand.” 

“ But to confess the deed is certain death.” 

“Confess? — thou dost not understand. I will but 
arouse a strong suspicion in order to allay it by a 
splendid oration. If I cannot do this I am unfit to 
carry out the plan which I have formed for the fut- 
ure.” 

“ What plan ?” 

“ To found a prosperous colony in honor of my na- 
tive city.” 

“ Surely this is the strangest way to begin to honor 
thy native city and to lead forth a colony — to desecrate 
the bones of the founder ; the very words stick in my 
throat.” 

“ Then tliou wilt not share this last peril ?” 

“Nay, if nothing will stay thee I will bear my part. 
But once more I implore thee — think of the horror 
and the danger.” 

“ Bones are but bones, and danger is what I seek.” 

“Come, then,” said Glaucus with a sigh, “let us do 
the deed quickly, and then say our last farewell to the 
sun.” 


THE BANQUET AND THE TOMB. 13 

“ Courage,” and Antinous again laughed aloud. I 
will save thee and myself.” 

They went forth into the blackness of night and 
found the city wrapped in slumber. They stumbled 
along the narrow by-streets to avoid the observation of 
any late reveller or wakeful watchman until they came 
to an open space which had been left to the protection 
of a lofty cliff against sea- ward attack. They stopped 
near a huge mound on the summit of which a small 
open temple had been erected, five pillars supporting 
a circular roof. Here in a tomb made of rough slabs 
of stone, ornamented with weather-worn figures and 
mystic signs, had reposed through forgotten ages, so it 
had been handed down, the bones of the founder of 
the city. The tomb had never been opened and no 
mortal knew whether the bones of the hero had be- 
come dust or, shut off from the air, had kept their 
hardness. 

‘‘ Stay,” said Glaucus, “ this dead man has done thee 
no harm, nay, rather as founder of the city, he was 
founder also of thy fortune. Leave him to his rest, 
and let us return and forget this impious design.” 

“ Return if thou wilt — I alone will do what I pro- 
posed. The shaking of these dead bones shall make 
the living hearts in this city quake with terror and 
hatred. See, the lid only rests by its own weight,” 
and Antinous put his iron bar to the heavy stone. 

“ Hay ! the deed can never be undone or forgotten.” 

“That but spurs me on.” 

“ For my sake, then — I thought I was as callous as 
thou — together we have done many a deed beyond the 
just bounds of nature — but none such as this. Come, 


14 


TOXAR. 


let us slay some living enemy and leave this tomb in- 
violate. Thou canst not look on the stars and listen 
to the sea and do this thing. The gods — ” 

Antinous struck him lightly on the shoulder, and 
then with upraised eyes, like a priest at the altar, 
looked steadfastly on the sky. After a pause, he 
turned his face to the sea and seemed to listen to the 
dash of the waves at the base of the cliff. For a 
moment Glaucus thought that he was moved by the 
scene, but, on the instant, Antinous relaxed the dignity 
of his bearing, and said : 

“ The sea has its old moaning sound, and the gods 
— they are as viewless and silent as empty air. As 
for the stars, it is the rising of Arcturus, and the har- 
vest is ripe. And this,” he said, suddenly raising the 
slab with the iron bar, “ this is the harvest that I will 
gather.” 

As he spoke the great stone slipped to the ground, 
and Antinous, thrusting his hand into the tomb, drew 
forth a bone. He poised it in his hand, passed his 
fingers over it, and held it up to the light of the stars. 

This was part of the arm of the hero. Doubtless in 
life this bone was strong as iron, and now — see !” As 
he spoke he struck it on the side of the tomb and broke 
it in two pieces. 

Glaucus shuddered with terror and his tongue re- 
fused to utter a word, but Antinous, unmoved again, 
thrust in his hand. This time he drew forth the 
skull, and holding it up to look, loosened from its 
hold a golden circlet. ‘‘Ah!” he said, “surely this 
was the crown of the hero, and I feel upon it strange 
letterings and old graving. I must look on it more 


THE BANQUET AND THE TOMB. 


15 


closely, though we perish.” He removed the covering 
from his lantern. “ Look !” he said, “ thou hast per- 
chance read more than I — be mine interpreter.” Glau- 
cus, against his will, looked, but he had never seen the 
like and he shook his head. 

.Antinous carefully replaced the circlet on the skull 
and again looked intently and said : “ This is marvel- 
lously strange. In the centre of this circlet there is 
an opening as if for a jewel, and, by all the gods and 
heroes ! there seems to be corresponding to it a slight 
hollow in the skull. Read me that riddle. Has the 
jewel worn away the bone or is it the work of chance ? 
This jewel I must find if I die for it with my plan un- 
achieved.” Again he put in his hand and groped in the 
dust. “ I have it ! I have it !” he cried. “ This I will 
keep for myself.” He held close to the lantern a round 
shining stone, in color and size like a splendid opal. 

By some mishap it slipped from his hand, and in his 
eagerness to recover it, in the darkness he trod upon it 
with his heel, and in a moment it was broken to shiv- 
ers. He picked up a little fragment, and checking his 
irritation said, ‘‘Surely it was an opal, for no other 
gem is so brittle. But it is time to depart, or we shall 
be broken in like manner. Come !” He took up the 
pieces of the broken arm and the skull and placed the 
golden circlet on his own head. He extinguished his 
lamp and gave it with the iron bar to Glaucus. 

They hastened back in silence, but in a short space 
Antinous stopped: “Is there some witchcraft in this 
gold that disturbs my judgment ?” — and he took the 
circlet from his head — “ or have these bones not yet 
lost all their power?” — and he laid them on the ground. 


16 


TOXAR. 


They stood still and looked around. Before them 
lay the city broken into shapeless masses by the dark- 
ness, above was the black immensity of the sky pierced 
through with a myriad points of fire, and behind was 
the dishonored tomb of the hero and the pathless sea. 
‘‘ Even I,” said Antinous, “feel the power of this dead 
man. I can almost see his ghost shaking the shadow 
of this arm in impotent wrath, and I can hear the 
shrill faint hiss of his voiceless anger. Had I waited 
a little longer he would have subdued me and kept his 
tomb untroubled, although well I know he lives not at 
all save in my fancy. Truly the dead rule the living, 
and the strongest cannot escape their thraldom.” 

“ Let us return with speed,” said his friend, “ and 
replace these dreadful signs. To-morrow we will offer 
a noble sacrifice, and no living wight will know, and 
the dead will be appeased.” 

But Antinous recovered his courage and said : “ The 
gods and the dead are as shapeless and empty as the 
mists of autumn. I was but recalling for thy pleasure 
the images of the poets. But this deed I will com- 
plete if I fight my way through a host of shadows. 
Here is my tablet with the message to my enemy al- 
ready inscribed. Look to the east — that is surely the 
first reddening of the dawn. Come, the rest of my 
m usings on the dead thou shalt hear in my oration 
when I still the fury of the people.” 

He gathered up the bones and the golden circlet, 
and they stole back to the house of Antinous. 

On the way thither, lie left the spoils of the tomb 
and the insult on the tablet at the door of his enemy, 
even as he had planned from the beginning. 


CHAPTER IL 

ANTINOUS AS ORATOR. 

Long before the days of Antinous, Peirene had been 
celebrated amongst the cities of Greece for the luxury 
and wantonness of its inhabitants, and the ancient vir- 
tues had become sport for the writers of comedies. 
Those gods in whose praise mysteries had been estab- 
lished were indeed honored, if the unbounded licen- 
tiousness of the worshippers be an honor ; but no man 
revered any god who was not an excuse for excess. 
The poor ministered to the vices of the rich, and the 
rich gave their substance to the poor under the sem- 
blance of public festivals. 

Hone but slaves lifted a hand to labor, and the slaves 
were specially rewarded by being admitted to the most 
shameless and disgraceful of the sacred mysteries. 
And the number of the slaves was seven times the 
number of the free. 

And yet, in the midst of this corruption and decay 
there were remnants of former health and vigor. Deep 
down the recesses of the mind old-world feelings lay 
hidden, ready to rush forth in a tumult if they were 
summoned loudly enough. First and foremost, by a 
common contradiction of humanity, the people still 
honored the fair name of the city which they had pol- 
luted, and to save it from the unworthy touch of an 
enemy would have made of it a vast funeral pyre. 

2 


18 


TOXAR. 


Next, and indeed as part of the same honor, they revered 
their dead, and especially the fathers of their race. 
Besides this, the minds of the common sort were also 
filled with superstitions, and though they recked little 
of the gods, they thought much of signs and omens and 
the double words of oracles. Thus was the sacrilege of 
Antinous fraught with the utmost danger. 

As soon as the sun was well up, a slave discovered at 
the door of the chief ruler the tablet inscribed by An- 
tinous, and close to it the circlet of gold, but he ob- 
served not the broken bones. At first he was tempted 
by the gold, but not being able to read, and fearing some 
snare, he took the writing and the golden crown to his 
master. The master of the house was delighted with 
the treasure, thinking it to be a present from some 
friend. But when he had read the tablet his counte- 
nance changed, and he said hastily to the slave, “Were 
there any bones beside this gold ? ’’ And the slave re- 
plied, “I cannot remember; I was dazzled by the curi- 
ous gold.’’ “ Run and see — witli all speed.” 

The slave ran, and soon returned with a scared face, 
bearing the broken arm and the skull. At once the 
ruler perceived that the bones were very ancient, and 
he knew that they were at one time part of a living 
man. At first, however, he could not believe that the 
tablet spoke truth, and feared to be made sport of by 
Antinous, his enemy; but when he refiected on the 
reckless audacity of the young man and his bitter 
hatred, he began to doubt. He rushed to the door, but 
there stood hesitating. And as he waited, two children 
came running to the house, followed by an old man, 
breathless with haste. “The hero’s tomb has been 


ANTINOUS AS ORATOR. 


19 


broken open ; but not bj us,” lisped the children. “ The 
tomb of the founder has been defiled,” gasped the old 
man, “and the city is doomed to destruction.” 

In an incredibly short time the rumor spread through 
the city, and the people went in crowds to see. And 
they found the tomb certainly broken into, for the 
heavy slab that had covered it was still on the ground, 
and near it lay a little dust and a fragment of bone. 

Then the chief ruler, standing on the steps of the 
little temple, called for silence and read aloud the tablet. 
And pale fear and anger rushed over the upturned 
faces of the people as a sudden squall strikes the sea 
into white foam. In a moment they forgot the pleasures 
which Antinous had given them in festivals, and the 
love which they had borne him for his courage and 
beauty and boundless generosity. Wild voices arose : 
“ Kend the defiler in pieces! ” “ Crucify him!” “Burn 
him for a sacrifice!” Not one word was said in his 
favor — not even a word of doubt. Horror had en- 
chained their belief. 

But when the tumult was at its height, suddenly 
Antinous appeared on the scene. He was surrounded 
by a strong company of devoted anercenaries that he 
had gathered about him on the expeditions and travels 
in which he formerly delighted. The unarmed mob 
was for the moment awed (for the custom of wearing 
iron had long fallen into disuse); but at the same time 
the people were the more convinced of his guilt by this 
appearance of force, and those near him muttered, and 
those at a safer distance shouted execrations. Antinous, 
with face unmoved as a mask, forced his way to the side 
of the chief ruler and demanded to be heard. The 


20 


TOXAR. 


ruler, taken aback and fearing violence, called again 
for silence; and for the time curiosity got the better of 
horror, and the people pressed to listen, and kept their 
fury in their hearts. 

As soon as he saw that he would obtain a hearing, 
Antinous dismissed his mercenaries to the last man ; 
even Glaucus he forced to leave his side. The mob 
closed in upon him like water, and he stood alone at tlie 
mercy of the people. 

Antinous had been trained in oratory by the best 
masters, and was familiar with every device of rhetoric, 
and could play on the passions as a musician on the 
lyre. Like the greatest actors, he threw his whole 
strength into his part, and to such effect that when he 
said what he knew to be false, yet he almost persuaded 
even himself that he was speaking the truth. He be- 
came, in truth, the spokesman of the dumb thoughts 
and feelings of the crowd, and in turn gave and fol- 
lowed the lead in popular excitement. His voice was 
full and deep, and save for the purpose of his art, the 
flow of his language was never checked. His gestures 
and action were such as to excite those too distant to 
follow his argument, and those who heard every word 
were enslaved by his eloquence and lost to common 
reason and judgment. 

Never before, however, had Antinous addressed an 
assembly roused to the extreme of fury against him, 
and yet, as he looked on the pallid faces and mutter- 
ing lips of the crowd, he burned with exultation. 
Since daybreak he had brooded over the desecration of 
the tomb, and he had felt more and more, in spite of 
his reason and disbelief, the strange power of the dead. 


ANTINOUS AS ORATOR. 


21 


At one time lie clothed the bones of the hero with 
flesh, and put life in his eyes and breath in his nostrils, 
and fought side by side with him at the siege of Troy. 
Then he recalled the figments of the poets, and the 
pallid ghost of the dead man stood before his face and 
almost made him tremble with mysterious dread. 

But as the light of day became larger, his thoughts 
turned to the inevitable popular tumult, and his heart 
throbbed with high resolve as he contrasted the triumph 
of success with the cruel doom of failure. He had 
prepared his oration in the most minute detail long 
before he heard of the public accusation, and he was 
ready to come on the scene with all the appearance of 
innocence and indignation in the greatest haste to repel 
an unjust charge. 

For a brief space after he had dismissed his follow- 
ing, he stood, as it were, breathless, and laid his hand on 
his heart, as if he would lay it bare to the public gaze. 
Ilis head was uncovered as a slave’s, but his broad, 
smooth brow and full dark eyes looked open as the day- 
light. His cheek was a little paler than its wont, and 
his lips, slightly opened, appeared to tremble. 

Well, he knew the power of manly beauty over the 
Greeks, and with eyes that seemed to look into the dis- 
tant future, as if ready for death, he searched the faces 
of the people, to hit the exact point of time to begin 
his oration. 

Deep silence fell upon the crowd, and as he raised 
his hand towards the sky in mute appeal to the gods, 
even the very breathing was hushed and held in check, 
and no man stirred hand or foot. Above all people, 
the Greeks love oratory, and admire beauty and courage. 


22 


TOXAR. 


With his first words, Antinous made himself one 
with his accusers. He turned to the broken tomb, and 
with a loud voice, trembling with passion, he prayed 
that the author of this impious deed might be accursed, 
and avowed that no punishment, whether at the hands 
of men or of the gods, could be too great for such a 
crime. 

Then, full of the thoughts excited by his long reflec- 
tions in the solitude of the early dawn, he recounted 
the mystery and horror of the power of the dead, so 
that even those who had imagined that they were quite 
beyond the reach of superstition, grew cold in spite of 
the glare of the sun. With wonderful art he brought 
in the words of the poets, which the people had learned 
by rote in their childhood, and he filled with meaning, 
by the power of his utterance, what before had seemed 
empty musical sounds. 

The listeners soon began to feel not only that the 
speaker could not, even had he wished, have done this 
thing, but that no man of their race could even have 
imagined it in his heart. 

But Antinous turned again to the broken tomb, and 
with singular skill again aroused the suspicions of the 
people as he showed that there was no enemy near their 
gates, and that the violation was clearly the work of 
man. 

And at this point he reached the climax of his au- 
dacity, as with quick utterance and thundering voice, 
he declared that the tablet must have been written and 
the tomb defiled by some enemy who had tried to wreak 
upon him a fearful vengeance. 

Then, without a pause, and taking advantage of the 


ANTINOUS as orator. 


23 


excitement, he asked the people, as if they knew already, 
who this man could be. 

The silence was profound, and the faces of the crowd 
were stretched towards the orator as they waited for 
him again to act as their spokesman. 

With a rapid glance he saw that his triumph was 
complete. Then suddenly he turned with uplifted 
arm and threatening mien to the chief ruler, his enemy, 
and cried aloud to the people : 

“ This — this is the man ! — None other could have 
done this thing. If ye doubt my words, look on his 
craven guilty face.” 

And as was natural, the chief ruler, astonished and 
horror-stricken at the sudden accusation, and seeing at 
once his peril, looked the image of discovered crime 
and cowardly guilt. 

A voice in the crowd shouted, ‘‘Slay him ! ” It was 
the signal for a roar of vengeance. 

A sudden ungovernable rush — a sharp cry of fear — 
a shriek for pity — a breathless protest — and all was 
over. The man was torn and trampled to death at the 
feet of his enemy. 

Such was the greatest triumph of the oratory of An- 
tinous, and the fitting climax to his life of reckless 
daring. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE MAN OF MEANS. 

When Antinous had thus put a period to his licen- 
tious habits, and by an act of insolent audacity had 
caused the death of his chief enemy, he astonished both 
his former friends and the people by the temperance 
of his life and the dignity of his bearing. As soon as 
he considered that this display of virtue had made suf- 
ficient impression — and no people are so fickle in 
opinion as the Greeks — he gave out that he purposed 
to lead forth a colony to a distant region, and he invited 
all those who were of his present way of thinking and 
nauseated with grosser pleasures, to join him in found- 
ing a new city, where they might live with the ancient 
simplicity of manners. 

And numbers of young men were charmed with the 
scheme, and became as eager for tranquillity of mind 
and health of body as they had formerly been for furious 
lusts and all kinds of license. They looked with long- 
ing to the new country, as men on a plain, parched up 
by the heat of summer, look with longing to the dis- 
tant mountains. 

In order to prepare for the task of establishing and 
governing his colony in the best manner, Antinous took 
counsel with the most celebrated philosophers of the 
time, and with men famous for their practice in political 
affairs. He studied also the histories of the past and 
the accounts of travellers. 


THE MAN OF MEANS. 


25 


Blit the result of his labor was to bring him almost 
to the verge of despair, for as soon as he had heard one 
method described as the best, he straightway found 
another opinion, of equal authority, to an opposite effect. 

The only point on which there appeared to be una- 
nimity was that the celebrated saying of the Megarian 
was undoubtedly true — namely, that “ woman is an evil 
thing.” But this was plainly too narrow a foundation 
on which to erect a new state which was intended to be 
self-sufficient for many generations, and no two philos- 
ophers or men of affairs could agree how the evil was 
to be met, the opinions being divided whether it was 
better to treat women as slaves or as equals. 

In the midst of this controversy, which became a 
subject of hot debate with the new philosophers, Antin- 
ous was assisted to arrive at a conclusion from a most 
unexpected quarter. 

He carried out his plan of taking to wife Hermione, 
the daughter of the wealthy merchant. The maiden 
had been brought up in the greatest innocence in a 
country estate, and Antinous had never seen her until 
the eve of his marriage. He had expected, and, in his 
newly -formed antipathy to pleasure, almost desired, 
that she would prove ill-favored in appearance, rustic 
in bearing, and sharp of tongue — in a word, endowed 
with all the qualities which the comedians are accus- 
tomed to attribute to the wives of the philosophers. 

He found, on the contrary, that she was beautiful in 
person, graceful in movement, and gentle in manner. 
Above all, she was of simple nature, and knew nothing 
of the corruption of the city. She had been taught by 
her father to look upon her future husband as one of 


26 


TOXAll. 


the noblest of men, and slie came prepared in all sim- 
plicity to treat him with the greatest honor and affection. 

His young wife’s innocence proved a delightful sur- 
prise to Antinous, and he thought that he had discov- 
ered for the first time the full meaning of the distinc- 
tion between true and false pleasures, and pure and 
impure delights. He was confirmed in his life of tem- 
perance, and made his wife an equal companion, to 
whom he might confide everything — always excepting 
the licentiousness of his youth. 

It was under this new infiuence that he fully deter- 
mined to exclude from his colony all those strange 
women who more than anything else had destroyed 
the cities of Greece, and he resolved to draw the greater 
part of his colonists from the uncorrupted country dis- 
.^tricts. This was the more easy, since, owing to war, 
famine, and usury, the country people were overbur- 
dened with debts, and were desirous of escaping with 
their families to a new land. 

While Antinous was busily engaged in the purchase 
of galleys and the hire of seamen and other prepara- 
tions, and when he had been forced to the conclusion 
that it was in vain to consult the philosophers and men 
of experience, and better to trust to chance and the 
variety of circumstance, it was his fortune to discover 
a counsellor of the most extraordinary wisdom and the 
most peculiar temperament. 

This man was a slave, who had been brought to Pei- 
rene for sale by his master, when he heard that man}^ 
wealthy young men had abandoned themselves to phi- 
losophy. This slave, it was reported, had been trained 
in all kinds of learning of the philosophers and physi- 


27 


THE MAN OF MEANS. 

cians, and in other branches of knowledge and science, 
just as other slaves are trained in music, dancing, and 
the baser crafts. 

He seemed to be approaching old age, though still 
full of vigor. His appearance betokened that he was 
of foreign blood. His cheek-bones were higher than 
in the Grecian mould, his complexion ruddy, and his 
hair, untouched by age, was lighter than gold in color. 
His eyes were between blue and gray, and twinkled in 
a restless, furtive manner that could not fail to attract 
the attention. He was huge of frame, and looked as 
much an athlete as a man of learning. He halted in 
his steps as if at some time he had been severely hurt 
and not carefully attended. 

Antinous heard so much of this slave, and the exor- 
bitant price demanded for him, that curiosity impelled 
him to see the man in person. He began at once to 
question his master respecting his qualifications and 
training, but the owner rejoined : 

‘‘It is better to consult the man himself; he has 
not long been with me, and he speaks nothing but 
truth.” 

Antinous smiled with incredulity, but addressed the 
slave : 

“ What art thou V’ 

“ A slave.” 

“ But I mean thy race, country, and training.” 

“1 was the son of a king”— again Antinous smiled 
as a superior, but the man, though looking full in his 
face, went on without concern — “ of a barbarian tribe 
far to the north, and I was captured in my youth by 
Phoenician traders and sold to the Greeks.” 


TOXAR. 


“And then?” 

“First of all I tried to escape and return to ray 
country. I failed every time, and was beaten and tor- 
tured. See these scars on my shoulders, and these 
twisted fingers and broken foot.” 

The slave pointed to sure evidence of ill-treatment. 

“ The last time I was captured,” he continued, “ the 
torture was carried too far, and I was rendered lame 
for many years.” 

“ Is that all thy story ?” 

“ My spirit also was broken, and I tried to escape no 
more. I was sold to a poor man of learning at a cheap 
price, and he soon discovered that I also was well fitted 
to become a man of learning and philosopher. Such 
I am and have now been these many years.” 

“And what kind of philosophy dost thou teach?” 
asked Antinous. 

“ Every kind,” replied the slave, “ and all manner of 
learning in addition. I am also skilled in practical 
wisdom, and I speak nothing but truth — that is, to my 
master.” 

“And to others,” said Antinous, “dost thou speak 
falsely?” 

“ That is as my master chooses to order. Since my 
spirit was broken I only obey. I am an instrument 
for another to direct.” 

“ What is thy name ?” 

“Many names have I had, but I have long been best 
known by the name of the Man of Means.” 

“O Man of Means,” said Antinous, “enlighten me 
regarding this curious title.” 

“Tl\e words,” said the slave^ “need no interpret 


THE xMAN OF MEANS. 


29 


tatioii. My master for the time being — I have had 
many in my life — declares to me the object or end 
which he desires to attain, and I, by my wisdom 
and learning, show him the best means to achieve 
success.^’ 

Give me an example of thy method.” 

“ If tlie master wislies to attain pleasure, the slave 
points out the limits, the variety, the worth, and the 
cost of different pleasures, and the best means for their 
accomplishment. In the same way, if the master de- 
sires honor or riches or virtue, the slave again declares 
the means. Since my spirit was broken I have become 
the perfect idea of a slave. I have been the man of 
means to a miser, to a reveller, to a tyrant, and to many 
others, and I have proved myself an excellent servant 
in every capacity.” 

“ Hast thou, then, no faults ?” asked Antinous, laugh- 
ing at the calm unconcern of the slave. 

“ The faults that are part of the weakness of man. 
I choose always what appear to be the best means, but 
judgment may fail, and what seems at one time the 
better course may prove at the last to be the worse. 
But I speak only truth — to my master — and I always 
declare any uncertainty, so that he may decide for him- 
self.” 

‘‘But how,” questioned Antinous scornfully, “have 
thy masters given up such a perfect slave?” 

“As it happens all have died in the accomplishment 
of their desires. Ill-fortune has attended every one. 
But the slave cannot control death.” 

The eyes of the man twinkled with a strange light, 
and Antinous tried in vain to stare him down. Then 


30 


' TOXAR. 


he said: ‘‘Man of Means and speaker of trnth, hadst 
thou any part in their death 

“ I have but suggested means when the master has 
declared the end. None of my masters ever desired 
death, and I have had no occasion to explain the best 
means for that object. But on death a mass of learn- 
ing has accumulated, and if it is thy desire to live in 
order to die in a certain way, I can assist thee. I am 
nothing but a man of means.” 

“Dost thou declare that thy advice has not ruined 
thy masters?” 

“My advice,” said the slave, “has only led towards 
the fulfilment of their desires.” 

“ To their death ?” 

“A slave cannot control death and fate. But I 
grant, if thou art superstitious, that ill-luck has at- 
tended all my masters.” Again the man’s eyes twin- 
kled furtively as he looked on Antinous as coldly as 
the light glances from shining iron. 

“And what,” said Antinous, “is the object of thy 
present master?” 

“ To sell me at the highest price, and therefore have 
I declared my good qualities with perfect truth, for a 
truthful slave is a rarity, and truthfulness alone is 
worth a large sum.” 

Antinous was unable to penetrate the mind of the 
man, and suspected that he was afflicted in some way 
to a degree of madness in spite of his wisdom, and he 
said suddenly : 

“Art thou perchance mad, O Man of Means?” 

“ Since my spirit was broken I have often been called 
mad,” replied the other, “but no test that is known 


THE MAN OF MEANS. 


31 


convicts me of madness. Try me, or let thy physicians 
and all the wise men of Peirene try me. What is thy 
intention if thou bnyest me?” 

I purpose to lead forth a colony, and I need a coun- 
sellor and, as thou sayest, a man of means. Canst thou 
advise me in building up a new state ?” 

“I have acquired all the learning of the political 
writers, and I am acquainted with many forms of gov- 
ernment in different cities. I am, besides, an excellent 
judge of the fitness of other men for different kinds of 
work. I can advise the means if thou declarest the 
kind of colony. Prove me if thou wilt.” 

“Come with me,” said Antinous, “and I will ex- 
amine thee further at my leisure.” 

On the next day he was so well satisfied with the 
variety of the slave’s knowledge, and with his truth- 
fulness, that he paid his price. Thereafter he began 
to use the man of means as his own hand and eye. 

Now the name of the slave was Toxar, but more 
commonly he was called simply the Man of Means. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE NEW COLONY. 

Toxae, the man of means, soon acquired the confi- 
dence of Antinous to such an extent that his chosen 
friend Glaucus seemed almost affected by jealousy. 
But he declared, when accused of it, that he could no 
more envy a favorite slave than a favorite dog or horse. 
At the same time, however, he warned Antinous against 
the danger of putting too great trust in one of whom 
he knew nothing, except by his own report, and he ad- 
vised him to make closer inquiries of the trader from 
whom the slave was purchased. 

To this Antinous made no objection, but on search- 
ing for the man he learned that he was dead. 

He had apparently fallen into evil hands with the 
large sum of money upon him which he had obtained 
from his sales, and had been robbed and murdered. ‘ 

“It is well,’’ said the man of means to Antinous, 
“ that thou art not superstitious, nor a believer in omens 
and unlucky chances. For this last master of mine, 
like all the rest, has perished miserably in the fulfil- 
ment of his desires.” 

At the instigation of Glaucus, the most searching in- 
quiries were made in order to discover if the man of 
means was involved in the supposed crime, but nothing 
appeared, and the confidence of Antinous was so much 
the more increased. 


THE NEW COLONY. 


33 


On the other hand, Glaiicus, who was the most de- 
voted of friends, kept a still more watchful eye on the 
new adviser. But in spite of all his efforts he could 
find no fault in him. Toxar was to all appearance, 
even as he had declared, a living instrument with no 
more thought of self than a potter’s wheel. 

In process of time the colony was established ; and 
it was much farther to the north than any other set- 
tlement of the Greeks. 

The site chosen, as is the custom with most Greek 
colonies, was a neck of land which could easily be dci 
fended from attack both by land and sea. On the 
landward side the country was mountainous and sav- 
age, but towards the sea the neck of land shaped itself 
into a lofty flat. 

The headland was encompassed on every side by 
rugged, inaccessible cliffs, and was thus perfectly se- 
cure from attack. 

The only harbor was near the neck of land and was 
very easy of defence, and the only approach to the 
new city was by a very steep path. 

The whole promontory was covered with a thick 
forest, which gave promise of a rich soil when the 
ground had been cleared of its wild trees. The cli- 
mate was mild and salubrious, and everything prom- 
ised well for success. 

The new city throve apace, and Antinous soon dis- 
covered that his labor in balancing the merits of differ- 
ent forms of government had been thrown away ; for, 
uncorrupted by luxuries and immersed in labor, the 
country people lived in peace and simplicity without 
the fear of any law before their eyes. 

3 


34 


TOXAR. 


The greater part of the young philosophers wlio 
might have proved a source of danger soon became 
heartily tired of the hard life and enforced modera- 
tion, and slunk back to the mother city. Glaucus, 
however, with a remnant of those of stronger fibre, 
remained and planned the defences of the place, and 
trained the people in military exercises in case of need. 
Toil in the dust and sun of summer and the rain and 
storms of winter soon brought rude health and natural 
appetite in place of the stimulated passions and the 
mock philosophizings of their former life. They re- 
joiced in their newly -gained strength of mind and 
body, and thought with scorn of their weakly com- 
rades who had deserted them on the first trial. 

But of all the colonists, the captain of the colony, 
Antinous himself, was the most elated. To him a 
great gulf seemed to have opened up between the old 
life and the new, and the man who had strained and 
distorted every passion with excess, and had sought 
for momentary excitement in the violation of the most 
sacred things and the outrage of nature, now took the 
greatest pleasure in learning the arts of the fisher and 
husbandman. And, most of all, he took delight in the 
joyous innocence of his young wife, and her boundless 
confidence in his goodness aroused his generosity to 
give her worthy gifts in return. With the utmost 
zeal he took part in her childlike pursuits, and he 
strove in every way to honor her as the famous women 
of olden times were honored. The birth of a daughter 
bound them together still more closely, and the turbid 
past became as dim and faint as a half-remembered 
story. 


THE NEW COLONY. 


35 


The whole colony loved and honored the lady Her- 
mione, and especially did Glaucus treat her with a 
most honorable affection. And by nature he was far 
better fitted to live a hard life in a new land than to 
spend his strength in the delicious corruption of an 
old city. Labor and danger and hardship he loved, 
and every day brought the pleasures of some new 
mode of fatigue. 

Toxar, the man of means, proved equal to the ac- 
quittance of his boasts. He was full of all kinds of 
strange lore, and specially skilled in the use of herbs 
and simples. On many occasions, also, he showed that 
he was ready with devices in meeting unexpected diffi- 
culties, and he was constantly revealing his knowledge 
of various arts. But, most of all, he was of service in 
dealing with the surrounding barbarians ; for he either 
knew already or easily acquired their language, and it 
was mainly through his counsels that peace was pre- 
served, notwithstanding the fighting ardor of Glaucus, 
until there was little danger from attack. Yet he al- 
ways professed to be nothing but a man of means, and 
was forever asking the end in view before he gave his 
advice. 

In spite of his lame foot he moved about with great 
celerity, and when the children laughed at his ungainly 
movements and strange appearance he paid no regard, 
and with his crooked hands he often made them play- 
things in the deftest manner. 

Yet, notwithstanding his extraordinary docility and 
wonderful aptitudes, he seemed always a stranger among 
strangers. Even those whom he had cured of diseases 
never felt for him the least affection, and the children 
always accepted his toys with fearful ness. 


36 


TOXAR. 


Glaucus especially continued to distrust him, and 
counselled Antinous to be rid of him before he did 
some mischief ; but when asked for his reasons he could 
give none, and Antinous declared that his distrust was 
only childish envy. Still Glaucus persisted in his warn- 
ings, and urged his friend at least to put this man of 
strange blood and stranger habits to the proof. At 
last Antinous lost patience, and said : “ Devise some 
test that will satisfy thee, and let us have done with 
this suspicion. To me the man seems the most useful 
of all the colonists ; but for our ancient friendship I 
will slay him or send him away if thou canst discover 
any sign of -treachery. What dost thou fear?” 

“ All his former masters by his own showing have 
perished miserably,” was the gloomy answer. 

“Then,” said Antinous, “the test is easy. I will 
put myself in his power when escape for him is easy 
and certain, and we shall see if he will attempt my 
life.” 

“ J^ay,” said his friend, “ rather will I be dumb for- 
ever regarding him. Thou shalt not run such a risk.” 

But, as it happened, chance furnished an opportu- 
nity for the trial ; for Antinous, on a hunting excur- 
sion, was wounded in the slaying of a boar when far 
from all his companions. All night he lay groaning 
with pain, near the dead beast, and had well-nigh bled 
to death. But in the nick of time be was found by 
the man of means, who brought him to his senses and 
carefully dressed his wound, and said, “ The wound 
may prove dangerous. What does the master desire ?” 

“ To see my wife and child before I die.” 

Thereupon the huge barbarian exerted his great 


THE NEW COLONY. 


37 


strength to the utmost, and carried Antinons back to 
the city. And there he nursed him most carefully 
until he had recovered of his hurt. 

And from that time Glaucus was ashamed to betray 
his distrust, though he still concealed it in his heart. 

And the new colony prospered more and more, year 
by year, and the seasons hurried past in the fulness of 
happiness. 

Peace and simplicity and rustic content filled every 
breast. 

And Antinous, who was well versed in the poets, in 
spite of his disbelief in gods and omens began to be 
afraid of so great and continuous good - fortune, and 
looked on every side, without and within, for some 
sign of a calamity. 

But Hermione and the child laughed at his fore- 
bodings, and Glaucus bade him hunt more frequently. 

Only the man of means re-echoed his fears. “All 
my masters,” he said, as coldly as he would speak of 
broken pottery — “ all my masters, without exception, 
have perished miserably. But my present master 
believes not in omens.” And his eyes shone like an 
evil star. 

Five years the colony flourished beyond all expecta- 
tion, and was augmented greatly in numbers, for, since 
the land was plentiful, it was deemed best both by An- 
tinous and the people to attract those skilled in agri- 
culture and in handicrafts from other districts of Greece, 
in order to strengthen the place against the invasion 
of the barbarian tribes. But none were admitted who 
were likely to weaken the state in any way, and espe- 
cially was it forbidden to bring in strange women. So 


38 


TOXAR. 


strictly was this policy carried out for the protection 
of the common people that no one was permitted to 
bring foreign slaves, and the slaves which they had 
brought with them were treated more like hired la- 
borers. 

For Antinous well knew by experience that slaves 
were the root of corruption in his native city, and, 
though the government was in name and form a de- 
mocracy, the influence of the captain of the colony 
was paramount and unquestioned. 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE FAMINE. 

Suddenly, without warning, the colony fell on evil 
times. Day after day in the early summer a fog came 
up from the sea, dry, dense, and murky. The corn was 
blasted in the blade, and a murrain fell upon the cattle. 
As the summer advanced the wells were dried up, and 
the people only obtained with difficulty from distant 
streams enough water to drink, and their cattle, weak- 
ened by disease, perished in hundreds. The harvest 
gave barely enough for seed, and the stores left over 
from the previous years of plenty were but scanty 
owing to the constant influx of new mouths. 

In this extremity Antinous acted with the greatest 
courage and prudence. He set the example of rigid 
abstinence, and doled out with the utmost care the 
supplies garnered by the state against the necessities 
of a war. 

He sent Glaucus to the nearest city to charter ships 
with corn ; but he could obtain little without money, 
and the colony had in prosperity been rich only in 
cattle and men, and now the treasury was empty. 

As soon as Glaucus returned he maintained that the 
only way to save the state was to obtain by force what 
they could not purchase ; and he offered to plunder the 
coasts, and if necessary to join with the pirates, who 
still infested the seas. 


40 


TOXAK. 


But in the meantime some of the new-comers, driven 
to the verge of starvation, seized the best of the ships 
and sailed away from the famine-stricken land. 

Winter was fast approaching, the granaries were al- 
most bare, whilst outside the city the barbarians were 
becoming more insolent every day, and within, the 
people began to murmur. Even Hermione seemed 
saddened and hopeless, though she tried to bear a 
brave face before her lord. 

Antinous was in despair and took counsel with his 
man of means, who never offered advice except on 
request. 

“ Man of Means,” he said, “ now is the time to show 
thy skill. Obtain food for us or we perish utterly.” 

“ I have already,” replied Toxar, “ shown the wild 
roots and weeds that may serve for food in necessity.” 

“ But even they begin to fail, and the corn is well- 
nigh done.” 

“ It is for the master to declare the end. I am, as 
thou knowest, but a man of means ;” but his eyes be- 
lied the humility of his words. 

‘‘The end,” said Antinous, gloomily, “is plain 
enough, for unless we obtain food quickly, ends and 
means are all one.” 

“ Has then the captain of the colony no other end 
but to save the people from famine ?” 

“Plainly not,” said Antinous, with impatience. 
“Have done with thy catch-word.” 

“ Thy slave,” continued Toxar, unmoved, “ was told 
many times that thou wouldst rather see thy colony 
destroyed by war or famine than by luxury and cor- 
ruption — and in all soberness I am but a man of 


THE FAMINE. 


41 


means. Thj city can be saved from starvation with 
ease, but what wilt thou say to thy counsellor if 
luxury is therewith brought hither 

‘^Art thou mad,” said Antinous, “to speak of lux- 
ury and abundance of wealth when the people are 
dying by scores for want of a little treasure to buy 
food? Save the city from present famine, and we 
can guard it from luxury as before.” 

“ It is thine to declare the end, and to say if sim- 
plicity and virtue are purchased too dearly at the risk 
of death. Choose between luxury and starvation now 
that the choice must be in deed, and not in word, as in 
a school-boy’s theme.” 

Antinous looked upon his strange adviser with 
wonder, but his shifting glances completely hid his 
thoughts. Certainly the man seemed no more mad 
than before, and yet his words were incredible. An- 
tinous stood for a time lost in thought whilst Toxar 
eyed him curiously. “Declare the end, O master — 
virtue with the deaths of many, or life and plenty — 
virtue or no virtue. To the living instrument it is all 
one. Nought am I but a man of means.” 

“ Surely,” said Antinous, “ this is no time for jest- 
ing. If thou canst, save my people.” 

“A slave cannot jest — but to save this city from 
famine is easy. Come.” 

He led Antinous in the direction of the headland. 
They soon passed beyond the limits of the city, and 
through the blighted corn-fields and the parched 
meadows, where filthy birds were feeding on the de- 
caying carcases of the cattle. They saw no man, for 
all work had been given over through weakness and 


42 


TOXAR. 


despair. And Antinons grieved and mourned with all 
his heart as he thought on the quiet pleasures he had 
witnessed in those very fields, and pictured to himself 
the utter ruin of his colony. 

Then they came to the uncleared forest, and the 
leaves on the oldest trees seemed stunted and withered 
with the severity of the drought and the baneful fogs 
and blight. Even in the deepest shade the ground 
was cracked and seamed with the heat and the dry- 
ness of the air, and all the life of the place seemed to 
have been scattered into swarms of flies. 

And when they had penetrated a long way into the 
depths of the forest, they came to the sacred boundary 
which had been marked out to preserve for the 
ancient deities of the place an inviolate dwelling-place. 
For it has been the custom with all nations at all 
times for any new settlers to set apart a portion of the 
newly acquired land for the divinities which haunt 
the woods and springs ; and so had it been done by 
Antinous. 

At the holy march they paused, and Antinous said : 
“ If the people know that the sacred grove is violated 
they will accuse thee of the calamity. Besides, dost 
not thou thyself fear the old divinities, for thou wast 
bred a barbarian 

The slave’s eyes threw their shifting glances about 
and beyond his master, but his face betrayed no feel- 
ing as he replied : “ I am but a man of means, and it 
is not for such as me to revere the gods — old or new. 
I hear and obey my master alone. It is for him to 
choose — but of a surety this way alone lies the food 
that will save the people.” 


THE FAMINE. 


43 


Antinous followed the slave across the sacred bound- 
ary, and as he did so, to his own surprise, the same 
vague dread seized upon him as after he had violated 
the tomb of the hero, and he wondered much that the 
old-world superstitions should have such power over a 
man of desperate courage and withal a philosopher. 

When they had reached the verge of the headland 
the slave bade his master look over a lofty cliff. 

What dost thou see, O master 

“ Alas,’’ said Antinous, “ there is nought but the salt 
water and the rough stones. My man of means is 
certainly distraught.” 

“ Dost thou not see the berries on the bush in the 
cleft of the rock ?” 

‘‘ Food enough for one small bird,” said the master. 

“But the roots,” said the man of means, with a 
firm, strong voice — “ the roots will feed all thy people. 
Behold !” 

With incredible agility, and without the slightest 
fear, the slave clambered down the steep cliff. He 
stood for a moment on a ledge of rock, and, having 
carefully taken up his position, he pulled up one of 
the shrubs by the roots. Carrying it in his teeth, he 
climbed rapidly to the the top of the cliff and said to 
Antinous : “ Look on these roots and again declare the 
end.” 

Antinous did as he was bidden, thinking more than 
ever that his slave was in truth mad. Then he sud- 
denly started as he saw something white glisten in the 
stony soil that clung to the roots of the bush. He 
shook it and said hastily to the slave, with a voice 
hardly audible through excitement, “ Silver !” 


44 : 


TOXAR. 


“ Silver,” was the reply ; “ and now choose, for the 
headland is full of silver ore. I have but shown thee 
the way in which the matter came to my knowledge 
long ago. But see this and this.” 

As he spoke Toxar moved away in various places 
stones and fallen branches, and showed how he had 
followed the vein. 

‘‘But why didst thou not tell me before?” asked 
Antinous, when the richness of the rock was un- 
doubted. 

“ I am but a man of means, and I cannot work at 
the same time for two opposite ends. My poor wis- 
dom knows no way to keep a city from luxury and 
corruption when its foundations rest upon a mine of 
silver.” 

“We must save the people,” said Antinous, and as 
he spoke he saw, as in a vision, his city filled with 
every kind of wealth. 

And the vision stirred up, for the first time since 
the night of his riotous banquet, the memories of 
former delights. 

And they shook to the roots the firmness of his pur- 
pose, until he thought upon the happiness of his wife 
and child, and the vision passed. 

He returned hastily to the city, and called together 
the starving people. They listened to him with dumb 
patience as he told them of the silver, and indicated all 
kinds of restrictions and regulations to be placed upon 
the working of the mines as soon as the famine was 
subdued. To everything they assented willingly. 
Thereupon he enjoined them for the present to obey 
in every respect Toxar, who had alone made the dis- 


THE FAMINE. 45 

covery. Again they expressed their readiness to obey, 
and the assembly was broken up. 

Men, women, and children followed Toxar in a tu- 
multuous, panting throng, many tearing their garments 
and flesh in the underwood, and many fainting by the 
way. Without a pause they rushed over the sacred 
boundary. 

But Antinous remained in his house, and at one 
time reflected on all the wild delights and excess of 
power that the silver could bestow, and then again he 
looked upon his wife and child with a wistful glance, 
and fell to wondering whether his faithful slave was 
not right in his warning. 


II. 

CHAPTER VI. 

PRIDE OF TYRANNY. 

The silver saved the colony from famine, but, as 
the man of means had foretold, destroyed all sim- 
plicity of life. 

The people began to clamor for an equal division, 
and refused to labor on the ground when it was known 
that the work of a few slaves in the mines could pro- 
vide abundance of wealth for all. Idleness begat lux- 
ury, and luxury begat dissension. 

The city narrowly escaped becoming a prey to pi- 
rates, and the extremity of danger made palpable to 
all the necessity for a strong government. Where- 
fore in a short time Antinous assumed the tyranny, 
took possession of the mines, and held the people in 
subjection by the aid of a band of chosen mercenaries, 
under the command of Glaucus. 

He now found the man of means as skilful as he 
had boasted in the arts of government, and he took no 
step without his counsel. And his confidence and 
pride were much increased when he discovered after 
many trials that in most important matters, after a 
full discussion of the arguments, his own opinion con- 
quered that of his minister. The slave was very wise, 
but the tyrant w^as still wiser. 

When Antinous had set the city in order, and 


PRIDE OF TYRANNY. 


47 


framed laws and settled the details of government, he 
found time to consider the change in his own condition 
through the sudden accession of wealth and power, 
and again he took counsel with his proved adviser. 

“Let the king,” said Toxar, “ declare the end, and 
the slave will weigh the means.” 

“ I am well pleased,” said Antinous, “ with my life 
of the past five years, and I would fain continue the 
same moderation, but according to thy precepts a cer- 
tain show of ceremony is natural and necessary for an 
absolute ruler.” 

“ Then the king would combine the life of simple 
virtue with the state and magnificence of a tyrant?” 

“ Such is my present intention.” 

“ Impossible,” was the abrupt reply. For to the ill- 
suppressed vexation of Antinous his slave occasionally 
lost his usual deference of manner, and replied almost 
with the tones of a superior. 

“ What, then, does thy wisdom advise?” 

“ If my master would continue to live as before let 
him abandon the tyranny and flee to a distant land.” 

“ That,” said Antinous, “ will I never do. I love 
this city more than my life.” 

The slave looked upon him with his curious shift- 
ing glances and said : “ For thirty years my present 
master lived a life of unrestrained pleasure — even 
from infancy — is it not so ?” 

“Granted,” said Antinous, irritated at the man’s 
frankness. 

“ And for five years only my master has lived a life 
of virtuous simplicity, under the spur of constant 
labor ?” 


48 


TOXAR. 


‘‘Under strength of will and fixity of purpose,” said 
Antinous, proudly. “But thy tongue is free — say on, 
as rudely as thou wilt.” 

“Therefore,” said the slave, “methinks the thirty 
years will outweigh the five years, and with bound- 
less wealth and power at his command my master will 
find a life of virtuous simplicity dull, tedious, empty, 
and unendurable. If, then, the end is virtue, it is high 
time to flee.” 

“ Flee — I will not.” 

“If the end is lust of dominion and variety of 
pleasures, then it is better to remain in the tyranny.” 

“I will attain both ends,” said Antinous, with scorn. 

“ Hereafter the king will remember the warning of 
his most devoted slave,” said Toxar. 

There was that in the tone and look of the man 
which angered Antinous, and he eyed him and said : 
“ Thou art a prophet of evil omen.” 

“ All ray masters,” said the slave with perfect calm, 
“ have perished in the fulfilment of their desires.” 

Again Antinous searched in his eyes for some sign 
of faithlessness, but found none. 

“ Thy advice,” he said at last, “ has dispelled all my 
doubt. I will prove to thee and to the world that I 
am no weakling, to be frightened by words and old 
saws.” 

“ Then it appears that my advice has led in an op- 
posite direction ?” 

“ And not for the flrst time,” replied Antinous ; “ but 
opposition clears the mind, and thou has done well.” 

The man of means bowed his head as if with sub- 
mission, and said with his usual apathy, “ I am but the 


PRIDE OF TYRANNY. 49 

perfect idea of a slave. Let the master commaud as 
he will.” 

Antinous looked upon him and said: ‘^Mad thou 
majst be, but certainly thou art a faithful servant.” 

E’ow it fell out even as the man of means had fore- 
told. Little by little Antinous abandoned his simplic- 
ity of living. His house grew into a palace, and was 
filled with costly rarities, and his wants were again 
ministered to by a band of highly-trained slaves. Step 
by step all the outward habits of his old luxurious 
mode of life were resumed, although he still preserved 
and fostered the purity of his family affections. 

But the more he returned to the outward show of 
luxury the more he felt, as his prudent counsellor had 
warned him, the tediousness of this enforced sobriety 
of conduct. He began, in spite of his resolution, to 
contrast the simple innocence of his wife’s affection 
with the burning passion of the women of Peirene, 
and the rustic coarseness and dulness of the colonists 
with the brilliant wit and wild outbursts of his former 
companions. 

Hermione, with woman’s quickness, soon observed 
his dulness, and set herself to invent new pastimes, 
and pressed upon him constantly the marks of affec- 
tion in which he had formerly delighted. But her 
simple arts and childlike devices only served to mark 
the contrast between the past and the present. 

In a little time Antinous discovered that his philos- 
ophy now rested not on reasonable preference, but 
partly on obstinate pride and partly on the common 
feelings of common human nature. Aild whilst he 
still proudly affected the appearance of moderation, his 
4 


60 


TOXAR. 


passions were eager to revolt and to return to the 
anarchy of unreason, and were only bound by the 
sacred ties of the hearth. 

Thus the ruler, equally with his city, lay open to the 
first inroad of corruption. 

Now it chanced that Antinous had sent Glaucus and 
his man of means to collect new mercenaries through- 
out the cities of Greece, for, suspicious of himself, he 
suspected others, and he had become doubtful of the 
good faith of those upon whom the city relied for de- 
fence. And when his messengers had returned with 
the men, and the old companies had been disbanded 
and dispersed, Antinous, to relieve the tediousness of 
idle days, asked Glaucus many questions concerning 
the present state of Greece, the revolutions in govern- 
ments and the changes of opinion, and especially he 
inquired who of all the Greeks was most in men’s 
mouths, thinking in his pride that the fame of his own 
wealth would be the principal subject of envy and 
conversation. 

“ The Greeks,” he replied, forget easily an absent 
man and believe little in the wealth of a distant place.” 

“That I know,” said Antinous, “and need no trav- 
eller to tell me. But who for the moment is the hero 
of our fickle compatriots?” 

“ They have no hero.” 

“ What man, then, is the most frequent mark of their 
satire ?” 

“ I do not recall any name.” 

“ Dost thou tell me that for the first time in our 
lives the day’s admiration or hatred of the Greeks is 
not settled on one head ?” 


PRIDi; OF TYRANNY. 


51 


‘‘That I did not say,” he replied, with truthful 
reluctance, “ but the name that is on the lips of all 
Greece is a woman’s.” 

“ Hast thou seen her ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And on what does her fame rest ? What is her 
city ?” 

“ She is said to be a Persian, and the most beautiful 
woman of her time.” 

“ And her fame ?” 

“ Her fame rests on the madness of passion she has 
aroused.” 

“And what dost thou think of her? For even be- 
fore we became philosophers thou wast always blind 
to the beauty and snares of women.” 

“ The wisest law in our state,” was the evasive re- 
ply, “ is that which forbids the entry of strange women 
of any rank, under pain of death.” 

“ Is she, then, so beautiful and so dangerous?” 

“ Such is the report.” 

“ Surely she cannot have fired even thee. I am al- 
most persuaded to make a voyage to see this wonder 
myself.” 

Antinous spoke carelessly, but his companion replied 
with earnest agitation : “ Think not of it ! She has 
already destroyed two cities. Hay, rather make thy 
laws more stringent and keep this pest away from us. 
She is the very soul of the corruption of Greece, and 
no man she wishes to entrap can escape her snares. 
Her delight is in her power, and I warn thee that she 
has already heard — not from me — of thy wealth and 
thy former life, and has openly boasted that she will 


52 


TOXAR. 


defy thy law and bring thee to her feet. Let her not 
approach — rather famine, fire, and pestilence !” 

“ Truly,” .said Antinous, laughing at his vehemence, 
“her power must indeed be great to give thy tongue 
such unwonted elocpience. How didst thou escape?” 

“ Perchance because I was unworthy of her toils, 
but thou — I will say no more.” And he went his 
way as if in anger. 

The rumor of this woman filled the mind of Antin- 
ous, and he wondered if her beauty and power were, 
in truth, so dangerous. The secret thought of his 
heart was that, but for the bonds of affection with 
which he was fettered, he would conquer this woman 
as she had conquered others. And when in the midst 
of his musings Hermione broke in with her mother’s 
prattle about the child, Antinous began almost to be- 
lieve that he had thrown away his life. 

But shame seized him when he saw that without 
speech his thought had reached her heart ; and as he 
looked on the fear and dismay in her eyes and saw how 
she clung to the child, his heart melted, and he com- 
forted her with tender words, and he vowed to himself 
that he would restore his city to the old life or fiee 
away to a distant land, for he began to fear the tumult 
of his passions. 

Intent upon this design, he sought out his man of 
means and said : “ I will talk with thee as with a phy- 
sician. As thou didst forewarn me, the thirty years 
begin to devour the five years, and infiamed with the 
abundance of wealth my passions, like my people, ever 
threaten revolt. I have shown my strength of purpose 
— even to thee — since I assumed the tyranny, and save 


PRIDE OF TYRANNY. 


53 


in public display I have lived as before. But I am 
weary alike of the outward pomp and — to thee alone I 
say it — of the inward conflict.” 

“ Then,” said his counsellor, “ it is high time to flee, 
for weariness is ever the beginning of defeat, and if 
my master is weary with standing still, how will he 
bear an attack ? Surely it is high time to flee.” 

The reply angered Antinous, and he broke in : ‘‘ I 
understand thee not with thy defence and attack, thy 
flights and thy standings. I am a free man and I 
choose, and what I choose is tranquillity. But thou — 
thou art a slave — with all thy wisdom — and thy spirit 
is broken, and thou knowest nothing of freedom and 
courage.” 

“ I am the perfect idea of a slave,” was the meek 
reply, “ and my spirit is broken ; but my master com- 
manded, and I spoke as a physician of the mind.” 

Antinous was appeased, and said : “ Speak then 
again, but plainly. What dost thou fear for me? 
What is my danger?” 

“Does my master command me to speak without 
reserve, even to the certain wounding of his pride ?” 

“Thou — a slave,” and Antinous was again angered; 
“a slave wound my pride? Impossible. Say what 
thou wilt.” 

“ The king,” said Toxar, “is weary at heart with the 
dulness of his life.” 

“ Of the pomp and show, I said.” 

“ Weary even,” continued the slave, “of the perfect 
virtues of the queen.” 

“How dost thou dare?” said Antinous, still more 
angry. 


54 


TOXAR. 


‘‘ The king commanded — ” 

“ To speak the truth, but this is plainly false.” 

“ I ever speak truth to my master.” 

Antinous restrained his anger with an effort, and 
said: “Thou hast pointed out the disease — in thy 
opinion ; what is the remedy ?” 

“If the king desires quiet happiness and a life of 
rustic simplicity, let him flee with wife and child. If, 
on the other hand, the end approved is lustful pleasure 
and the wild caprice of power, let him remain and 
await the attack.” 

“ But what is thy own opinion and advice ?” 

“ To the man of means,” was the calm reply, “ it is 
all one — virtue or pleasure, solitude or riot, the present 
queen or another for mistress — it is all one to the pot- 
ter’s wheel what is made of the clay.” 

“ At last,” said Antinous, “ I have at any rate dis- 
covered thy opinion of thy master’s strengtli of will. 
Thou thinkest that I cannot withstand opportunity?” 

“ Ho,” said the slave, simply. 

“That I will prove to be false. But now — to be 
plain with me — what is this attack and this danger? 
Who is the enemy?” 

“The enemy that ever since the world began has 
conquered the strongest men — a strange woman.” 

Antinous smiled scornfully, but his adviser con- 
tinued placidly : “ This Persian — ” 

“ Ah ! A Persian sayest thou ?” 

“ This Persian to thy present queen is in passion as 
fire to snow; in quickness of wit as nimble lightning 
to creeping mist ; in her love of power and cruel greed 
a whirlpool ; and she is careless as the salt sea of the 


PRIDE OF TYRANNY. 


55 


opinion of men and the breath of rumor. Above all 
she is the most beautiful woman alive. I have seen 
her — and to thee she is a strange woman.” 

“My man of means,” said Antinous, lightly, “is, it 
seems, a poet as well as a philosopher.” 

“ In one word,” he continued, with eyes fixed in the 
air, and as if looking beyond Antinous to the future, 
“ she is in nature the image of my present master, and 
yet besides this she is a strange woman.” 

“ A Persian ?” 

“So it is reported ; but such a woman is of no race. 
She is the flower of a thousand years’ growth.” 

“Again a poet; it is not thy most cunning art. 
Speak plainly. Is she the same of whom Glaucus — ” 

“ Surely,” said the slave, “ I also mean the Persian 
who calls herself Atossa, and who laughed at his pas- 
sion so scornfully.” 

“ Ah, I knew not of this. And she purposes to visit 
me?” 

“She has heard of thy wealth and thy curious 
change of life.” 

“ But does she not know,” said Antinous, “ that by 
the strictness of our law it is death for a strange wom- 
an to put foot on our shore ?” , 

“The king she knows well is himself the law, and 
in her time, in spite of her youth, she has been wife to 
two tyrants. To the vulgar she is a mighty personage 
— the widowed queen of two great rulers. She is a 
strange woman only to philosophers and kings. She 
fears thy law not one whit.” 

“ Most assuredly,” said Antinous, “ I will put her to 
the death, and show to my people once for all the power 


66 


TOXAR. 


of my law and my strength of purpose. As soon as 
she comes — if she comes — I will but look upon her out 
of mere curiosity, and pronounce her doom.” 

“It were well with thy present intentions to enforce 
the law at once without delay, and without sight or 
speech of her.” 

The man of means spoke almost as one in authority 
to an inferior, and Antinous said, 

“ Thy present master is no foolish boy, but a man 
who has seen the heights and depths of life in the 
noblest city of the Greeks.” 

“ The trial will soon be made,” was the rejoinder, 
“for I see already, if thou canst not,” and he pointed 
seawards, “the ship that bears the breaker of thy 
peace.” 

“Begone, then, and look to the present safety of 
this Persian wonder.” 

And in the heart of Antinous the longing for a new 
life of wild delights broke out as fresh as a spring in a 
desert, and all the virtues seemed dull and weary. 

And as he watched the distant speck shape itself 
into a ship he chafed at his fetters, and thought no 
more of flight. Ilis only trouble was the fear of dis- 
appointment, and that this lauded queen should not 
deserve her praises. Glaucus was no lover but of the 
chase, and Toxar — a gaunt slave with a broken spirit. 
What, he pondered, could they know of the real power 
of woman ? 


CHAPTEE YIL 

A FREE WANDERER. 

For a long time Antinous remained motionless, gaz- 
ing on the sea. His thoughts rose and fell and changed 
from gloom to light as fast and variably as the waves 
beneath cloud and sun. 

He listened to the dull, heavy blows of the sea 
upon the shore, and felt an irresistible longing for 
rest and tranquillity. Hermione and her child seemed 
to pass before his eyes set in a vision of rustic hap- 
piness, and for the moment filled his mind with calm 
content. 

Then he looked again on the growing ship, and in- 
stantly the vision faded, and he wondered if by some 
fated accident the vessel was bearing to him the mad- 
ness of love. He gloried in his beauty and strength 
and reckless courage, and boasted to himself that no 
man had ever surpassed him save in opportunity. 

“ If, perchance,” he murmured, “ she were my equal,” 
and forthwith he shaped a woman unlike any he had 
ever seen, and, most of all, unlike Hermione. If it so 
chanced, he would crowd the little space of life with 
pleasures and glories. And the moments rushed swiftly 
past as he sowed the sea with imaginings. 

Suddenly, however, a noise from the harbor told him 
that the ship had reached land, and the rude sounds 
from wood and iron, and the hurried shouts of seamen 


58 


TOXAR. 


and soldiers, shattered his meditations, and made him 
laugh bitterly at his folly. 

Then again his mood changed as he thought on the 
perturbation of his friend and the warning of his slave. 
He clinched his hands with fury at the shameless au- 
dacity of this stranger. A blaze of anger and pride 
burned through his heart, and for the first time he 
was seized with the lust that is only possible to the 
untrammelled tyrant — the lust for the most cruel tor- 
ture. “If,” he said aloud — “and no woman can reach 
such a height — if she pleases me not !” 

As he spoke the man of means stood before him, and 
began : “ The Persian wdio calls herself Atossa — ” 

“ Has she dared 

“ She has broken thy law, and is in thy power.” 

“ Take her from her attendants.” 

“ This command was anticipated.” 

“And lead her to my new judgment-hall.” 

“ This also.” 

” “ Seize her ship, and let not a man escape.” 

“ It is done.” 

“ Then before sunset not a trace of this bold wan- 
ton shall be left. The very ship shall be burned to 
ashes.” 

The man of means listened unmoved, and his silence 
somewhat abated the fury of his master. 

“ Lead the way,” he said. “ Let no man follow or 
stay within earshot. Thou art strong enough, if need 
be, to slay a woman. Take this dagger.” 

The slave took the weapon and twisted it in his 
scarred, crooked fingers. Never had he seemed so 
utterly devoid of all feeling save blind obedience. 


A FREE WANDERER. 


59 


They entered the hall, and the slave closed the mas- 
sive doors. From the farther end a woman richly clad 
advanced to meet Antinous. 

Her manner betokened surprise and annoyance, and 
when she was within a few paces she began abruptly, 
as one accustomed to command, “How comes it, if 
thou art the ruler — ” She paused, struck dumb by 
the cruel curiosity displayed in the eyes of him she 
addressed. 

“ This is indeed my city, and within its gates no liv- 
ing thing can question my power or break my laws.” 

Antinous looked upon her narrowly, and in spite of 
her royal apparel and shining gems and gold the woman 
shuddered at the coldness of his words. 

“ And didst thou — thou,” continued Antinous, slow- 
ly, “think in thy heart to play with me?” 

He spoke with the utmost contempt, and, turning to 
the man of means, said, “ Surely this is some servant, 
some slave of thy vaunted enchantress. Her tawny 
skin comes from the laborers of the field, and even 
her fear cannot dispel the memory of the blazing sun. 
This is no queen, but a rustic. Yet, now I look more 
nearly, she is slighter in form than a peasant, and her 
eyes beneath these masses of black hair and close-set 
brows shine with some power. Surely if this is she, 
it is with her eyes she has ensnared more feeble men. 
But for me thy warning was utterly unneeded, and she 
dies the death.” He turned to the woman and said, 
sternly, “ Why didst thou come hither ? Knowest thou 
not that it is death for any strange woman to enter 
these walls ?” 

“ I,” the captive whispered, “ am the widowed queen 


60 


TOXAR. 


of two great rulers; widowed by misfortune in my 
earliest youth. I seek a place of safety, and I heard — ” 
She looked from master to slave and from slave to 
master, and in her fear forgot the story she had de- 
vised. 

“ For all that,” said Antinous, to me thou art but 
a strange woman, and unless thou canst turn my pur- 
pose thou diest the death according to our law.” 

She felt that she stood on the very verge of life, 
and she drew a deep breath and tried to recall her 
courage. 

Give me,” she whispered, “ a brief space to pre- 
pare for death.” 

As she spoke she cast on the ground her heavy outer 
garment, and Antinous could find no fault in the beauty 
of the form around which the soft Eastern robes hung 
as lightly as the mists that hide a vanishing goddess. 

She bared her head, rested a moment with folded 
hands, and sighed heavily, as she murmured, “ Ah ! 
Life, life !” The voice was gentle as a child’s, and, 
in spite of its sadness, marvellously pleasant. 

Suddenly she raised her pallid face and looked from 
Antinous to the slave. “ Is this man to be my slayer ?” 
And again she shuddered. 

“ He does my bidding,” said Antinous. 

He gazed upon her intently, and his voice revealed 
the slightest tremor of indecision. 

On the instant the fear of the woman seemed broken. 
She looked Antinous full in the eyes, and said, ‘‘ I ask 
only one favor. Bear with me for a few moments 
whilst I forget the folly of my quest, and then let thy 
slave strike quickly at my bidding. I would fain pass 


A FREE WANDERER. 


61 


from life to death on the wings of pleasure. No Greek 
am I, but by birth a free wanderer. Is it granted 
She spoke in soft, pleading tones, and the voice bad now 
lost its sadness and was still more wondrously enticing. 

Antinous was silent with astonishment. The woman 
had changed before his eyes from slave to queen. 

“Is it granted ?” she whispered. 

Antinous called upon his pride, and looked beyond 
the Persian as he spoke with forced roughness, “ Thou 
must die — and quickly. As for choosing the moment, 
choose when thou wilt — before the sun turns to de- 
scend.” 

“ Before the sun reaches its height,” she said, fear- 
lessly, “ my life shall be broken — if thou wilt.” The 
last words were gently whispered. 

Suddenly the man of means broke in with the harsh 
voice and tones of authority with which he sometimes 
irritated Antinous. 

“Will my master allow this woman to cast her spells 
about him? These wanderers have strange charms, 
and, for those unused to them” — he spoke with supe- 
riority — “ dangerous.” 

“ I believe not in charms and spells — as thou well 
knowest.” 

The slave again bowed his head with his usual sub- 
missive meekness, and said no more. 

Antinous turned to the Persian. “ What canst thou 
urge in thy defence?” 

“Nothing. I knew thy law, and I have forgotten 
my story.” 

“ Then, surely” — the glamour of the change seemed 
to have lost its power — “ thou must die.” 


62 


TOXAR. 


“But first,” the voice pleaded, again tinged with 
sadness, “ I may take a last draught of pleasure?” 

“ What pleasure canst thou find within these strong 
walls? Dost thou wish again to look on the sun and 
breathe the air from the sea ?” 

“ I take no pleasure,” she said, proudly, “ in sun and 
air. I am no simple rustic. See ! this is my delight !” 

The man of means made a slight movement as if he 
would again advance and speak, but on a look from his 
master he stood still. 

The Persian began to sing in a strange tongue a 
low chant, with a rhythm unknown to the ears of the 
Greeks. 

And as she sang, first of all she weaved mystic curves 
with her arms, which fiashed uncovered by the waving 
robe as she threw them back with gentle undulations. 
Then her feet began to glide to the music, and at last 
her whole body was drawn into movement by the song. 
Her face fiushed and her eyes shone with quickened 
life. She looked fearlessly on Antinous, and spoke to 
him with every gesture of unknown delights and un- 
imaginable pleasures. 

Suddenly, without a moment’s warning, she stood 
still and cried to the slave, “ Strike!” 

The man of means raised his dagger and looked to 
his master. 

With a rapid, eager movement Antinous stayed his 
arm. 

“ Thou wouldst not destroy such a wondrous life ?” 
he panted. 

The Persian looked in his eyes, and read her victory 
in unmistakable glances. Then the blood fied from 


A FKEE WANDERER. 63 

her face and she fell heavily on the floor, senseless and 
motionless. 

‘‘Monster!” said Antinous, “thou hast frightened 
her to death with thy dagger.” 

“ The queen,” said the slave, “ is overcome by the 
sudden passage from uttermost fear to boundless joy. 
Shall I use my skill as physician — or wilt thou let her 
die — thus ?” 

“ If she dies — thou also diest on the instant.” 

The man of means put his hand on her heart, and 
said, “ Her life flickers with fear and hope. Let her 
awake with her own people about her.” 

Antinous hastened to do his bidding, and to instal the 
company of the Persian in the most magnificent apart- 
ments of the palace. 

Thus was the life of simplicity forever shattered. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DOOM OF HERMIONE. 

The Persian speedily recovered the fulness of health 
and beauty, and it was reported to Hermione and the 
city that she had come to claim the sacred rights of 
hospitality established between her ancestors and those 
of Antinous. 

So great was- the love of Hermione, and so strong 
her simple belief in the good faith of her lord, that 
through many weary days she looked with confidence 
for the departure of the Persian and the return of hap- 
piness. She was ready to believe anything rather than 
doubt Antinous, and in the end her eager desire to be 
assured of the truth which she would not question de- 
stroyed the last shred of hope. 

With grief at the continued coldness of her lord and 
with vain striving in innocent efforts to please him as 
of old, which only served to heighten the subtle charms 
and graces of her rival, Hermione had become well-nigh 
sick unto death. 

AYoman-like, she was vexed when she saw how the 
lines of care and sadness had marred her beauty. She 
summoned to her aid the man of means, thinking that 
a skilled physician could preserve the health of the 
body against the grief of the mind. He found her, 
with tearful eyes, watching over the sleeping child and 
trying in vain to trace the father’s likeness in the young 


THE DOOM OF HERMIONE. 


65 


face. She sighed as she remembered how easy it had 
been in happier days, and before she observed the slave 
at her side she had forgotten, in the rush of bitter mem- 
ories, all care for her beauty. 

Oh, man of means,’’ she said, “ often and often has 
Antinous told me that if one only declares to thee an 
end, thy wisdom will be sure to find means for its ac- 
complishment. May I try thy skill, for I am much in 
need of help” — then she added, with reluctant hesita- 
tion — “ in the matter of my lord ?” 

‘‘ Many things,” he replied, “ are beyond the power 
of any man, but my skill is at thy command save for 
one thing alone. I may devise no means to injure An- 
tinous.” 

“Ah, me! Sayst thou so, indeed? And thou dost 
not know, with all thy wisdom, that to save Antinous 
any trouble I would gladly enter the murky under- 
world. Nay, to injure Antinous could never be my 
object.” 

“ And yet,” came the bitter rejoinder, “ many a wom- 
an, since the world began, has sent her lord to the grave 
with less incitement to anger than thou hast suffered.” 

“ That I will never believe,” she said, with obstinate 
faith. “Antinous has done me no wrong, nor ever 
will, and I only am at fault in my unworthiness if he 
seems to tire of my companionship.” She was angry 
with herself for saying even this much to the slave, 
and continued: “And only this day he spent three 
lone: hours with me in the heat of the sun.” 

“ And only this night,” was the cruel answer, “ he 
spent three long hours with the Persian in the cool- 
ness of the moonlight.” 

5 


66 


TOXAR. 


“ It is false,” she cried, in tlie agony of shame. He 
only converses with the Persian on the management of 
her wealth. He has often told me how much her af- 
fairs are in need of a wise counsellor.” 

‘‘Wilt thou see for thyself how these affairs are 
arranged? If thou wilt promise not to injure Antin- 
ous — ” Her tears stopped his words, and he mut- 
tered to himself, “ Let her see ; in this way, perchance, 
will my master’s object be best served.” 

After a moment’s hesitation Hermione was conquered 
by excessive desire of ending her present uncertainty. 
She gently embraced the sleeping child, and said to 
Toxar, “ Come, have no fear for thy master.” 

The slave conducted her, unobserved of any, to a 
deep shade cast by a black tree near the apartment 
where Antinous was alone with the Persian. Every 
gesture Hermione could see through the door, left 
carelessly open to the night, and she was so near that 
she could hear every word. The open door gave her 
confidence, and yet she clung to the tree with terror 
and listened with strained attention. 

The Persian was reclining on a soft couch, and near 
her stood Antinous. His hands were stretched out as 
if in entreaty, his eyes burned with passion, and his 
lips were half opened with breathless desire. 

“ I vow,” he said, “ that I never knew love till I saw 
thee.” 

“ In Peirene,” she replied, “ Antinous is still remem- 
bered for the strength of his passion and the victims 
of his love.” 

“ Pleasures and delights I have known in abundance, 
but I swear that the madness of love I never felt.” 


THE DOOM OF HERMIONE. 


67 


“III Peirene/’ she replied, “thou art still more fa- 
mous for thy unshaken devotion to the simplicity of 
Herinione. Thy virtue has long since passed from a 
jest of the players to the wonder of the age.” 

For a moment the memory of the past and the image 
of Hermione made him hesitate. 

As she clung to the tree for support her heart beat 
wildly with hope. 

But the hesitation which filled Hermione with joy 
kindled in the heart of the Persian a blaze of jealous 
anger. She stood up hastily, moved towards an inner 
door, and with flashing eyes and set teeth said to Antin- 
ous, “ Know this, that I will never share thy affection 
with another. I will have no divided love. If I re- 
main, wife and child must depart. Choose !” Still he 
hesitated, and one woman’s heart leaped with joy and 
the other’s with fury. 

“ They must depart never to return.” 

“ Thou canst not mean — ” Antinous whispered, still 
a little under the dominion of nature. 

“ What can I not mean ?” Again he was silent, and 
he thought that she had never looked so beautiful as in 
this overpowering passion of jealousy. 

“ I fear not,” she said, “ to speak my thoughts, and 
this matter shall be quickly ended. Listen ! This very 
night Hermione and the child shall die, or thou shalt 
never see me more.” 

“This is wanton cruelty,” he said, “and against 
nature.” 

“ Dost thou speak of cruelty and nature to me ? Art 
thou a free man or the slave of a dead past ? Choose !” 

The living passion conquered. 


08 


TOXAR. 


‘‘ This night,” he said, “ they shall die.” 

x\s he spoke a wild cry struck their ears. The Per- 
sian drew back afraid, and Antinous murmured : ‘‘ It 
is but some evil bird of night. Have no fear with me.” 

She repulsed him, and said, Come back when thou 
hast gained thy freedom.” 

Not till she heard her own doom and the doom of her 
child from the lips of Antinous himself did Hermione 
know how crushed and broken was her spirit. Then 
she gave the moaning cry which had startled the lov- 
ers, and gasped to her companion, “ Take me away !” 

The man of means led her to her apartment, and the 
mother fell in a stupor beside the sleeping child. 

When she had recovered her senses under the skilful 
care of the slave, he said, Lady, it is thine to declare 
the end. I am but a man of means.” 

“ The end,” she said, calmlj^, as she heard the old 
catch-word at which she had so often laughed with 
Antinous, “the end — the end is death.” She looked 
into his eyes as if even from him she would win some 
sympathy, but only saw the restless fluttering glances 
as of old. His coldness gave her courage. 

“ Hast thou no drug, O man of means, that will 
make me — and the child — sleep away our lives ?” 

“ Surely !” said the man. “ I know many such, for 
I am a skilled physician. And when they told me of 
this sickness, I came prepared to give thee sleep. See 
— this much, and in a moment ye will win the sleep of 
death.” 

“ Mingle it for me,” she signed to him. 

“Willingly,” said the slave, “there is now no better 
way to attain thy desire.” 


TIIE DOOM OF HEilMIONE. G9 

He prepared the drug, and even as lie finished an 
attendant bade him come to Antinons. 

With trembling hands Hermione hastened to take 
the drug from his hand. And first she gave it to the 
half-awakened child, and then, with a heavy sigh, drank 
the rest to the last sip. 

Before the man of means had reached his master 
mother and child had passed through the gates of sleep 
into the sunless land of death. 

“ And she, too, is dead,” muttered the slave, as he 
went on his way, “ my sweetest mistress, for whom I 
well-nigh forgot my hatred of the Greeks — and my 
duty to my master. Ill-luck has ever attended every 
one set over me — and yet Antinous lives in love and 
hope.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

ANTINOUS AND THE MAN OF MEANS. 

Antinous bad summoned his man of means to strike 
away the fetters which bound him to his old life. 

In the madness of his passion for Atossa, he had de- 
termined, regardless of nature, at once to carry out the 
behests of her cruel jealousy. He felt no pity and 
feared no remorse. 

As he mused on the tediousness of his past life and all 
its dull, childish simplicity, he wondered that he could 
so long have degraded his being to the level of a rustic, 
and his heart swelled with pride as his thought wan- 
dered from the patience of his former endurance to 
the audacity of his present resolution. He felt that 
lie had attained the summit of the wdsdom of philosophy 
— to be no longer a philosopher. He had conquered 
nature and habit, and rejoiced in the frenzy of law- 
lessness. 

In the midst of this unbounded elation the man of 
means entered. 

“Man of means,” said Antinous, lightly, “I have 
often for my pleasure tried, in many ways, to astonish 
thee, and to find thy wisdom and ready obedience at 
fault. Now, at last, I have my opportunity.” 

“It is thine to declare — ” began the slave, in his 
wonted manner. 

“ Look, then, in mine eyes, and, if thou canst, stay 


ANTINOUS AND THE MAN OF MEANS. 71 

for a moment that restless fluttering of thy glances. 
Thou canst not? Well, then, look as thou wilt, but 
listen.” 

“ I hear and obey,” said the slave, simply. 

“ This night,” said Antinous, slowly, “ I abandon the 
life of moderation for the life of excess.” The slave 
made no sign, and the master continued : ‘‘ I love to 
madness this passionate Persian, and I can bear no 
longer with the dull virtue of Ilermione.” 

The slave listened unmoved, and Antinous, with 
firm voice and angry gesture, exclaimed abruptly, 
^‘Therefore this night thou must find means to de- 
stroy Hermione and her child.” 

The slave showed no surprise, and replied quietly : 

“ They are already dead !” 

“ What sayest thou ?” cried Antinous, astounded and 
breathless as if struck by a sudden blow. 

“ The lady Hermione,” said the slave, “ heard her 
doom from thy lips — didst thou not hear her cry?” 

“ Ah 1” Again the shriek of the supposed evil bird 
seemed to ring in his ears. 

“ And when she had heard her doom, she at once 
obeyed thy command — to the letter.” 

‘‘ Dead ? — and the child ?” 

“ Dead ! Thy mistress, O master, was a poor piece 
of nature’s own making. She could not, like a man of 
reason, change her affections to match her lot. Thou, 
in thy time, hast had many lives ; she had but one life 
and one love. She was ill-mated to thy quick variable- 
ness. Therefore she hath slain her child and herself.” 

‘‘Without a word to me? One word might have 
changed death to banishment. Methinks I did not 


72 


TOXAR. 


mean death. Thou knowest how quickly my mood 
can change.” 

“Quickly, in truth,” said the slave, with a flash of 
his insolent superiority that shamed his master into 
flrmness. 

After a pause Antinous affected ta give a sigh of 
relief, and said calmly: “Perchance death was better 
than years of grieving. They are dead — thou art 
certain.” 

“With my own hand I mixed the fatal drug.” 

Glad of some object and occasion for a display of 
anger, Antinous cried to the slave, “How didst thou 
dare — without my command ?” 

“I, too, heard the command which my mistress 
obeyed,” said Toxar with humility. 

“And how didst thou dare to pry into my doings? 
Was it thou who brought Hermione to discover my se- 
crets ?” 

“ My master had long since made clear the end and 
I but found the means. Mother and child will trouble 
thee no more. Slay me, too, if it please thee.” 

The words were spoken with the utmost humbleness, 
but there was a smouldering fire in the man’s eyes, and 
a twisting of his crooked fingers, which for tlie first 
time made Antinous doubt his fidelity. In a moment, 
however, the man of means recovered his wonted def- 
erence, and stood in quiet dejection before his master. 

Antinous forgot his sudden suspicion, and said : 
“ True, the deed was mine, and thou, as thou sayesf, art 
but a living instrument. Leave me till I have con- 
quered this weakness. I never yet feared life or 
death.” 


ANTINOUS AND THE MAN OF MEANS. 73 

As sooD as the slave had gone, in spite of his boast, 
the tears of regret blinded the eyes of Antinons, and 
for a brief space, his heart was filled with shameful 
sorrow. 

But in a little while he again became true to his 
vaunted pride, and fresh from his victory over nature 
he went to glory with the Persian on his freedom. 

Yet it seemed to him, as he passed through the night, 
that faint pallid shadows, struck off from the dead, 
floated before his eyes and made them dim. 

But whether or not the shadows were born of a dis- 
ordered mind, as the newer philosophy teaches, certain 
it is that Hermione and the child lay dead whilst Antin- 
ous and the Persian discoursed of the delights of the 
future. 


1 


CHAPTER X. 

A BROKEN SNARE. 

It was given out publicly that Herinione and her 
child liad died by an evil chance through eating a poi- 
sonous herb. A magnificent funeral was accorded to 
them, and Antinous attempted further to delude the 
common people by concealing for the time his passion 
for Atossa. 

He had begun to love the power of his tyranny, and 
with the aid of his inexhaustible silver mine he planned 
all kinds of ambitious projects for the glory of Iiis city. 

And he feared a popular revolt before his power was 
well established, for Hermione had been much beloved 
of the common sort, and her untimely death had caused 
profound sorrow throughout the colony. 

The bearing of Glaucus since the catastrophe had 
rendered the tyrant suspicious of every one, for he 
plainly disbelieved the story of the poisonous plant, 
and suddenly announced his departure. In vain An- 
tinous reminded him of their life-long friendship, and 
affected to treat him with the utmost honor and confi- 
dence. Glaucus met all his advances with gloomy 
silence and hardly concealed repugnance. He refused 
to stay for the splendid festival which Antinous had 
devised for the public espousal of the Persian, a*nd de- 
clared that on the first opportunity he would sail to 
some distant unknown land. 


A BROKEN SNARE. 


75 


In the meantime, however, an incredible chance in- 
tervened, which, like a flashing thunderbolt, liglited up 
the scene and the characters of this history, and dealt 
a death-blow to the innocent, whilst sparing the guilty. 

The Persian soon discovered that Antinous, in spite 
of his passionate love for her and his cruel sacrifice to 
her jealousy, would brook no further interference with 
his will. Alike in matters great and small, he asserted 
the mastery, and refused to be ruled by his mistress. 
And she was enraged with bitter disappointment, for 
to sway men at her caprice was the fountain-head of 
all her passion. Now that he had gained her love, An- 
tinous seemed ever to assert the superiority, and to treat 
her almost as the simple slave of his passion. 

She cast about in her anger to set another in his 
place, whilst to hide her plans she treated him still with 
the utmost extravagance of fondness. 

And lier eyes fell upon Glaucus as the most fitting 
successor to his former friend, both in the tyranny and 
in love. She well remembered his sudden outburst of 
passion, and she was persuaded that she had only to 
make a sign and he would again fall at her feet. She 
viewed with delight his coldness to Antinous, and 
ascribed it to the jealousy of a rival. 

She devised a cunning scheme by which, as she 
thought, she could lay bare the heart of Glaucus with- 
out danger, and one day, in the absence of Antinous, 
she followed him secretly by a thickly-wooded path to 
the border of the sea, where he was wont to brood in 
solitude, like Achilles in his anger. 

She came upon him suddenly and said: ‘‘Antinous 
is dead — slain in a mutiny when the people learned 


76 


TOXAR. 


that he had cruelly done to death Hermione and her 
child.” 

He looked upon her with astonishment as she con- 
tinued : 

‘‘Wast thou alone ignorant of his sin and his dan- 
ger ?” 

Still he answered nothing. 

“And if,” she said with a passionate impulse, “thou 
art still my strong, brave lover, thou inayst thyself gain 
both the tyranny and the destined queen of the tyrant. 
But time presses.” 

For a moment his passion returned, and she saw her 
victory in his eyes. She held out her hand. “ Time 
presses. Art thou willing to rule with me, and over 
me ? I never loved Antinous. I have never loved 
but thee.” 

The extravagant falsity of the words was hidden 
from Glaucus by the madness of love, which again 
overpowered him. For the woman had the very witch- 
craft of enticement. 

“Do with me as thou wilt,” he cried; “I am thy 
slave.” 

“ Thou wilt obey my commands even to death ?” 

“For thy love I will do any deed.” 

“Then,” she said, “make all my story truth, as al- 
ready it is true in part. Thou hast but to declare that 
Hermione and her child were slain by the command of 
Antinous, and thou canst lead a revolt, in which An- 
tinous shall lose his love, his power, and his life. Be 
bold and delay not.” 

“Is then Antinous not dead?” 

“ Dullard,” she said, “ this day he shall die. I framed 


A BROKEN SNARE. 


77 


my story to test thy courage and worthiness. Do as I 
bid thee, and thou shalt gain the tyranny, the love of 
the people — and mine.” 

“ I must slay my friend 

“ Even as he slew his wife and child. That is truth.” 

Horror conquered even love in the simple nature of 
Glaucus. 

“ That will I never do ; and I will never look on thee 
more.” 

She looked upon him with contempt, and said 
fiercely : 

“ If thou wilt not slay him, this day shall he slay 
thee.” 

‘‘ Hay, I will give him warning of thy treachery, and 
thou shalt suffer.” 

The threat was spoken with vehemence, and sudden 
dread clutched at the heart of the Persian. 

She hastily determined to act on the device to which 
in all times false women have had resort in the like 
case. 

She hastened back towards the palace, and her alarm 
was increased when, after a few paces, she saw Toxar 
returning by the same path. She feared that he had 
heard her temptings, but he made no sign, and seemed 
busied in collecting herbs. 

She summoned Antinous with the most urgent en- 
treaties, and breathlessly told him that his friend was 
false and had attempted to gain hcrlove. 

“How?” 

She laughed. 

“ He is not the first — to love me hopelessly. Hor is 
he the first to seek to join love with vengeance.” 


78 


TOXAR. 


“ Yengeaiice 

“ On thee ! He urged me to join in a plot to take 
thy life.” 

‘‘ Surely this is some error — he was my only friend.” 

“Friendship,” she said, “is nothing to love; and the 
man loves me to madness. I feared his violence both 
for me and thee.” 

“ He did not dare to threaten ?” 

“ He told me for certain that this very day the sol- 
diery would revolt. One life for two — his for mine 
and thine — that is my counsel.” 

Anger and jealousy blinded Antinous, and he said : 

“ I will but take counsel with my faithful Toxar.” 

“Thou wilt take counsel? But if thou lovest me, 
the man deserves instant death. Dost thou not believe 
what I say ?” 

“ I will but speak with my slave.” 

The Persian trembled, but feared to make further 
parley. 

The slave was summoned. 

“ Toxar,” said Antinous, “ if any one should threaten 
to take my life and my power and my queen, would 
he not deserve instant death ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Even if he had been my friend?” 

“ If he were presently guilty, if the guilt were 
proved, and if the king’s mind were firmly fixed.” 

“ If — always if.” 

“ If my master is certain not to repent — when too 
late — as in a recent case. But who is this new victim?” 

The slave spoke in the manner which always angered 
his master. 


A BROKEN SNARE. 79 

‘‘ Glaucus — and this,” pointing to the Persian, is 
the witness. Now what sayest thou 

Perchance there may be some error — a little delay 
and close questioning by thyself would explain the 
mystery. If it is permitted to me to speak in favor 
of thy former friend and my constant enemy — ” 

There was again that in the slave’s voice which 
made his counsel drive his master in the opposite way. 

“ Shall I,” said Antinous, “ take the word of a slave 
against that of my queen ?” 

‘‘ Hereafter may it please the king to remember my 
warning?” said Toxar. 

“ Canst thou still talk with a slave on a matter that 
concerns thy life and mine?” said the Persian, afraid 
of further delay. Had I had the strength of a man, 
with this hand I would have slain thy false friend, al- 
though he loved me more, it seems, than thou dost.” 

“ Man of means,” said Antinous, destroy this en- 
emy; and see thou do it under color of some mis- 
chance, for he is much beloved of the soldiery.” 

Before nightfall it was noised through the city that 
Glaucus had fallen, when hotly engaged in the chase, 
over a high rock into the sea, and was drowned. 

And again, out of policy, Antinous honored the 
dead with a magnificent funeral, and he moved the 
people to tears by eloquent lamentation over his 
friend. 

And from that time forth the Persian thought no 
more of displacing Antinous in power or affection, for 
she feared the man of means. Yet could she never 
discover whether he had been witness of the failure of 
the snare she set for Glaucus. 


CHAPTER XL 

•NEW GODS. 


After the supposed treachery of his friend, Antin- 
ous lived in constant fear of rebellion, and he tried in 
succession all the arts which tyrants have devised to 
keep their people in subjection. He gave magnilicent 
shows and feasts, and flattered the populace by affect- 
ing to restore the appearance of a democratic govern- 
ment. He selected his mercenaries with the greatest 
care, and by extravagant pay and occasional license he 
induced them to submit to a most rigid discipline. 
Nor did he forget to use the opposite method both 
with his subjects and his guards; he relied on fear 
sometimes more than on reward for fldelity, and many 
an innocent victim suffered torture and death at his 
hands. 

With great pomp and ceremonial he made Atossa 
his queen, and lived with her most deliciously. He 
abandoned himself to all the excess which the passion 
of the East and the ingenuity of Greece could devise. 
His silver mines gave him abundance of wealth, and 
the years of restful quiet had restored his energies and 
renewed the zest for delights. He rejoiced in his free- 
dom like a beast of the woods released from captivity. 
His messengers ransacked the earth for new pleasures, 
and that which had been a colony of rustics and the 
home of the virtues became in a little while a nest of 


NEW GODS. 


81 


vices and unutterable corruption. The tyrant was de- 
lighted to see, according to the word of the philoso- 
phers, that his city was in reality but a larger image of 
himself. 

Two things only ever checked the impetuous tor- 
rent of pleasure. Sometimes without warning, in the 
glare of the feast, the faces of the dead shone before 
his eyes, and he heard above the jests and mirth the 
voices of vanished love and friendship, and the ban- 
quet became as lifeless as rotten leaves. Even the 
passion of Atossa was powerless against these gloomy 
memories, which vanished as they came suddenly and 
without any discoverable cause. 

And with equal unreason the fear of the future 
would force an entry in the midst of the most pro- 
found security. On one of these occasions of sus- 
picious fearfulness, Antinous took counsel with Toxar, 
and bade him use his utmost skill to secure a sure mode 
of retreat in the event of any accident to his power 
from secret rebellion or open hostilities. And well 
did the man of means obey the command of his mas- 
ter. For with great labor and ingenuity he prepared 
on the side of the headland, remote from the natural 
harbor, a basin large enough for a swift galley. And 
the only approach was by winding steps cunningly 
made in the rocks, and the only entrance to the secret 
path was through a brazen door in the centre of the 
palace. And a galley was built and laden with treas- 
ure, and as soon as the work was done it was reported 
that it had been abandoned, and the slaves who had 
toiled on the task were slain for their idleness. And 
neither from land nor sea could anything be perceived 
6 


82 


TOXAR. 


save tlie ruins of a huge sea-wall and a massive water- 
gate, and no living man knew of the hidden vessel and 
the secret path, and no woman save Atossa. And for 
greater safety it was forbidden under pain of death for 
any to approach the headland on that side, because it 
was reported that a still richer vein of silver had been 
discovered in quarrying for the abandoned harbor. 

Of this door of escape Antinous alone carried the 
key. And that all might be in readiness for instant 
flight, within the palace was always a suflicient com- 
pany of seamen, who were practised in their craft by 
turns in distant and perilous voyages. 

But Antinous was not yet content, nor could he se- 
cure his mind from the hidden pangs of unfounded 
fear. 

Again he took counsel with his unfailing adviser 
and said : 

“ It is well for a tyrant to have a door of escape, but 
it is better to have no need. Is there no way to keep 
the people and the soldiery in such dread that they 
would never dream of revolt?” 

“There is the strong hand for the people; and for 
the guards, leave to me the selection of their captains 
and the mode of discipline.” 

“ To thee ? To a slave ?” 

“Whom canst thou trust more than me, now that 
Glaucus has proved a traitor ?” 

“ True,” and Antinous checked his anger. “ To 
thee I will leave the ordering of the guards; and 
every day thou shalt give me a full report and I will 
order thee.” 

“A former master of mine, also a tyrant,” said 


NEW GODS. 


83 


Toxar, ‘‘taught his guards by my means always to 
obey without question the bearer of his signet ring. 
And many times, armed with this ring, I — a slave — 
gave most strange orders, for my master was cruel and 
wrathful beyond belief. Yet the men always obeyed 
the ring. Nothing, indeed, is more easy to teach than 
obedience.” 

“ And did this master of thine also perish miserably 

“ Most miserably.” 

“Did his guards not remain faithful?” 

“ Faithful to death.” 

“ What, then, was his fate ?” 

“He was poisoned by a jealous woman. The 
story — ” 

“Say no more,” said Antinous. “I will use this 
device, and thou shalt train the men in perfect dis- 
cipline.” 

“ Even as I,” said Toxar, “ am the perfect idea of a 
slave.” 

“But for my people,” said Antinous, “I like not 
the strong hand, and I would have my city the great- 
est haunt of travellers and strangers. I shall take de- 
light as of old in their stories, and they shall carry my 
name to the ends of the earth. Know that I love my 
city and my power.” 

“ Then must the master put his trust in gods and in 
oracles. Much have I thought on the puzzle, and this 
seems the only answer.” 

“ But, as thou knowest, I believe neither in gods nor 
oracles.” 

“Therefore thou canst so much the more easily 
make use of these kinds of fictions. If thou believest 


84 


TOXAR. 


not, but tby people do believe, then thou thyself canst 
interpret the signs and omens. A perfect tyrant can 
best govern his people by superstition.” 

“ Then should I become as it were a god, being the 
creator of gods and prophecies.” 

Thou becomest, O king, a living god.” 

“ But will the people be so simple as to follow after 
new gods, and to pay regard to omens not hallowed by 
age?” 

The only difficulty, and that is not great, is in the 
beginning. There is no folly that a people will not 
believe in the name of religion. I have myself trav- 
elled much, and I have talked much with other trav- 
ellers, and I could tell thee a multitude of incredible 
superstitions held in honor of the races of men. Noth- 
ing is too foolish, too cruel, too unnatural for a religion.” 

“ Perchance among the barbarians, but not among 
the Greeks of our day.” 

“ The Greeks of our day are even as other men if a 
tale is devised to their . liking. Even Antinous, the 
mighty tyrant and the scorner of nature, cannot be al- 
together free from the terrors of the unseen. Even he 
would not dare to violate a tomb.” 

Ah ! who told thee so ?” 

“I judge because he fears to meet death and the 
dead. Am I a physician of the mind, and yet can I 
not read what stands pictured in the eyes?” 

‘‘I fear nothing living or dead.” But even as he 
spoke the faint shadows that he dreaded passed swiftly 
before him, and unwillingly he raised his hand to hide 
the sight. They vanished, and he said fiercely, ‘‘ I fear 
nothing — tell me how to make others fear.” 


NEW GODS. 


85 


“ The old deities have for the most part fallen into 
neglect, and can hardly be made to serve thy purpose. 
But of late many foreign religions have become popu- 
lar in the cities of Greece. It were well to get strange 
gods to inspire thy oracles; and through them thou 
shalt rule over thy people and attract a multitude of 
strangers.” 

“ The scheme is worthy of thy skill. But how and 
whence shall I get my gods 

“ On this matter also, O king, I have pondered 
much, and thus shalt thou do. Send forth in opposite 
ways to the very ends of the earth two expeditions. 
And let the one bring back a man of kingly presence, 
but as strange in bearing and as different from the 
Greeks in voice and manner as can be found. He 
shall be thy chief priest, and thou shalt put in his 
mouth prophecies which thou canst craftily bring to 
fulfilment — accidents to life and wealth and the like. 
And let the other expedition bring back a woman of 
great beauty, but also different from the Greeks ; for, 
as thou well knowest, there is great power in strange 
beauty. She shall be thy priestess. And the pair 
shall be wedded, and raise up a priestly race, and they 
shall live altogether apart from the people, and alto- 
gether under thy command. In this manner may a 
religion and a power be founded which shall endure 
far beyond the life of the king.” 

Then said Antinous, “ One thing thou hast forgotten, 
my most wise and crafty man of means. AVill not 
those who bring back the priest and the priestess re- 
veal the secret ?” 

“ That is most easily avoided in many ways.” 


86 


TOXAR. 


‘‘ HowT 

“ Death.” 

“ A poor reward for the discoveries of new gods.” 

“ If thou fearest the effect on the soldiery, there is 
another excellent device. Let the king by his own 
wisdom, or if it seems unworthy, through the wisdom 
of his man of means, first discover the wonderful gifts 
of prophecy in the strange captives, which had escaped 
the notice of the captors. And to this end let thy 
messengers bring back a number of curious treasures 
and creatures, and a score of men and women. And 
they shall be brought in appearance for thy shows and 
festivals. Thus will no one, not even the leaders of 
the companies, know that they were sent in quest of 
new gods.” 

And Antinous approved in every respect of Toxar’s 
plans. And in a short time two bands, well armed and 
appointed, were sent out, one to the farthest limits of 
the North and the other beyond the pillars of Hercules, 
to obtain all kinds of rarities, and, most of all, the be- 
ginnings of a new religion for Antinous and his city. 

And he told all that he had done and the inner 
meaning of his quest to the queen ; and she was well 
pleased, for she hoped also to increase her power, and 
power she loved above every delight of the land. 


CHAPTEK XIL 

VELDA. 

Many months passed, and Anti nous began to fear 
that his good-fortune had failed him, and that his ex- 
peditions to the North and to the Soutli had been de- 
stroyed. At length, however, a miserable remnant in 
a battered ship returned from the North. They en- 
tered the city at dead of night, according to the com- 
mands given them, in order that no one might see the 
rarities which they brought, before they were shown 
to the king. As soon as their arrival was announced, 
Antinous dismissed his attendants, and bade the man 
of means bring in the wanderers with their treasures. 

‘‘ No treasure have they brought, living or dead, save 
one woman.” 

Then,” said the queen, with petulance, “ it will be 
easy to choose a priestess. But why did they not bring 
more, as they were commanded ?” 

‘‘The rest whom they captured have died on the 
way of grief and despair — so it is reported — but the 
best has survived. See, she comes.” 

The king and queen gazed with eager expectation 
towards the door of the spacious hall in which they 
were waiting. 

First of all there entered, straight from the ship, the 
leader of tlie expedition, worn past all recognition with 
hardship and danger. He saluted his ruler, and asked 


88 


toxah. 


whetlier the woman should be at once introduced in 
her barbaric dress and unadorned, or should wait to be 
fittingly apparelled. 

‘‘ Instantly,” was the reply. 

The leader beckoned to his companions, and they 
brought in a rude litter made of woven branches and 
covered with a rough cloth. 

“We have obeyed thy commands in every way, and 
added precaution to precaution, that our captive might 
not be seen.” 

“ Kelease her,” said the king, as the men set down 
the litter in the centre of the hall. 

“ With permission, O king, let the woman be still 
bound, that she may not lay violent hands on herself 
or others.” 

Antinous laughed as the queen shrank away, and 
said, “ Keep on the bonds if need be, but let us see her 
instantly.” 

The leader removed the cloth and laid open the lit- 
ter, and at first they saw only what seemed a bundle of 
strange skins in a motionless heap. 

“ I trust she still lives,” said the king. 

“ It is often thus with her, and often she will only 
eat and drink with force, and seems to seek death. And 
thrice she tried to escape, and she and her companions 
slew many of my men. Then we bound them fast, even 
as thou seest she is bound ; but the others died, the last 
two days ago. This one, however, is still strong, as 
thou shalt soon see, but stubborn and fierce beyond 
belief.” 

As he spoke, with the aid of his men he set the cap- 
tive on her feet. 


VELDA. 


89 


Tlie king and queen gave a cry of surprise, and the 
man of means passed his hand rapidly over his brow, 
and then remained impassive and motionless, but gazing 
intently on the captive. 

In every respect the appearance of the prisoner was 
fitted to excite the wonder of the beholder. She was 
tall and large of limb, but withal so well shaped in 
form that her stature seemed uncommon only in com- 
parison with the more common mould. Her hair was 
in color like gold in the gleam of the moon ; her eyes 
were as stern and blue as the glitter from an Eastern 
sword, and her glances quick and piercing. Her face 
was of a strange beauty, and seemed by nature ruddy, 
but pale with care and passion. 

She was clad in a loose garment made entirely of 
soft, light skins. Her arms and the upper part of her 
breast were bare. Her wrists and ankles were bound 
in such a way as to admit of little movement. 

“Beautiful and majestic as Minerva,” said the king. 

“ Say, rather, wild and strong as an Amazon,” said 
Atossa. “ I am afraid of her. See how she glares upon 
me.” And, in truth, the eyes of the captive seemed 
flaming with loathing and contempt as she looked on 
the Persian. 

Hext the barbarian turned to Antinous, and, gazing 
on him fixedly, she held up her fettered hands and 
struck the ground with her foot as if in unspeakable 
anger. Then she poured forth a torrent of words that 
seemed but broken noises to the Greeks. But all who 
saw and heard — though they knew not the meaning of 
the words — could easily divine that they were burning 
with wrath and threats of vengeance. 


90 


TOXAR. 


“I would give untold gifts,” said the king, “if any 
one would interpret the oration of the prophetess. 
What does she say he asked of the leader. 

“ I know only a few simple words of her tongue, and 
I cannot follow her rapid utterance. She is angry and 
indignant.” 

“ That can I tell without an interpreter. How sayest 
thou, O man of means ? Is not her speech full of wrath 
and indignation? But, perchance, in thy endless wis- 
dom, thou knowest also the tongue of this Northern 
priestess — for my priestess she shall be.” 

“It was my mother’s tongue,” said Toxar, calmlj^ 
“ and I have not yet wholly forgotten it.” 

The king turned upon him with joyful surprise and 
eyed him curiously. “True, thou art also of strange 
blood, and to one skilled in the signs of race there are 
many points of likeness between thee and the woman, 
in spite of the lines and seams on thy face, and thy 
gaunt form and limping gait. But haste to tell us 
what she says.” 

Toxar bowed his head, and with his usual simplicity 
replied, “ I hear and obey, if it is thy wdll. But she 
speaks only wild words of little import, and methinks 
it were better to give her rest and quiet before we de- 
mand her stor3\ Women of her tribe bear captivity 
but ill. Let her alone if thou w^ouldst have her live.” 

“ As thou wilt — take thou charge of her. If I have 
waited for months, I can well wait a day.” 


III. 

CHAPTER XIIL 

TOXAR AND VELDA. 

As soon as the captive found herself alone with the 
man of means, she said, “ How comes it that a man of 
our race seems in league with these breakers of hospi- 
tality and stealers of the women of his own blood 

“ I am a slave.” 

“ Thou a slave! With thy hands and feet unbound 
— a slave without chains ? How can this be ? Where 
is thy courage and spirit?” The words were spoken 
with rapid vehemence, and doubt and wonder were 
mingled with belief and indignant scornfulness. 

“My spirit is broken — as broken as these fingers,” 
and he held out his crooked hands. 

“ Can a man of my race live to say these words ?” 
she said with unveiled contempt. 

“I am no more a man of thy race. I am only a 
man of means. What another bids or desires, I find 
the means to attain.” 

She looked on him as if to search him through and 
through, and then, with head tlirown back and eyes 
and voice strained with anger, she cried : “ Then I 
command thee, thou broken-spirited slave, to find 
means — at once — to restore me — unharmed — to my 
native land.” 

“ I am a man of means,” he replied, “ to Antinous, 


92 


TOXAR. 


the king of this city, and he has far other designs than 
to give thee thy liberty. I am appointed thy guard- 
ian and teacher, and I obey only my master.” 

She looked upon him with utter bewilderment, and 
then said: “Perchance thou fearest to be overheard, 
and wouldst meet guile with guile.” 

“No one in this place understands thy tongue, and 
there is, besides, none to hear.” 

She paused and looked, and was lost in astonish- 
ment, and then inquired doubtfully : 

“ Thou art in truth to be my guardian ?” 

“I am.” 

“ And my teacher ?” 

“ Thy teacher.” 

“And what wilt thou teach me?” she asked, her fury 
fading into simple curiosity before the unbroken calm 
of the man. 

“ That thou shalt know hereafter. But in the mean- 
time. there is much to be done, and first of all I must 
unloose these fetters.” 

“Ah!” she sighed, “thou art kind, and in spite of 
thy words thou wilt save me.” 

The slave at once set free her hands and feet, and 
the captive shook her limbs with joy. 

“ It is better with thee thus.” 

She bounded away from him like a wild creature, 
and cried : “ Never again shall any one bind my living 
body.” As she spoke she seized a short curved sword 
that hung on the wall — a curious weapon brought from 
•the far East — the gift of Atossa to Antinous. 

“ Keep the weapon if thou wilt. But if thou wilt do 
exactly as I bid thee — ” 


TOXAR AND VELDA. 


93 


“ Thou wilt help me to escape 

“ Escape,” he said, will involve much trouble and 
danger, and, above all, we must lull suspicion with dela3^ 
Swear to do exactly as I bid thee, and I will do all 
I can for thy freedom. And slave though I be, my 
power is great.” 

“ I knew,” she cried, “that no man of my race could 
betray a woman of his own blood.” 

“ Do exactly as I bid thee, and thou shalt suffer no 
harm. Trust in me, and thou shalt return safe to thy 
forests. If thou triest to escape alone, thou must surely 
die, and die dishonored — and is not freedom, even after 
a little delay, better than death — and shame?” 

She was conquered, and her eyes filled with tears. 
Then Toxar said to her: “ The w.eapon in thy hand is 
a precious gift, very dear to the king, and he will at 
once miss it from its place. Give it to me, and I will 
get for thee another.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, she gave it back, and 
said simply: “I will trust thee. And thou, too, poor 
slave, shalt go with me, and my father and his com- 
panions will treat thee with equal honor, and thou shalt 
be again a free man with shield and spear. Dost thou 
not long to be again in the woods, far from these cramp- 
ing walls?” 

He looked as if he understood not, or cared not 
at all. 

“ I am but a man of means, and my spirit is broken.” 
Then, as if rousing himself to the needs of the present, 
he added : “ But do thou exactly as I bid thee, fearless 
of wrong.” 

“Surely,’’ thought the captive at last, “the man is 


94 


TOXAR. 


mad, yet he is certainly my guardian. If I trust liim 
with one hand I can keep the other ready for death.” 
She bitterly regretted that she had given up the weapon, 
and looked around for another, but found nothing. 

Give me back the sword,” she cried. 

“ Not this,” he said simply, ‘‘ nor any, if thou obeyest 
me not. Follow me!” 

Toxar led her into an inner chamber and called to 
her aid women slaves. Then he left her and bade her 
sleep without fear. 

He at once sought Antinous, who had awaited his re- 
turn with impatience. “Our priestess, man of means, 
is in form and beauty and divine wrathfulness a god- 
dess. But methinks it will be hard to tame such a 
spirit to speak the wisdom of a false oracle. How sayest 
thou? Will she in time do as she is bidden?” 

“She has already promised,” said Toxar, “to do ex- 
actly as I bid her.” 

“ This almost passes belief, O man of wonders. Dost 
thou indeed speak the truth ?” 

“ I speak ever truth to my master.” 

“ But how hast thou so quickly bent such a wild forest 
barbarian ?” 

“ By deceit and falsehood — in the manner long ap- 
proved of the Greeks. I first of all gained confidence 
by speaking incredible truth, and then the rest was 
easy. And yet I very nearly failed,” continued the 
slave, with humility. 

“How?” 

“ She seized, when I released her, the crooked sword 
from the wall, but I again beguiled her with soft words 
and promises. And now she has perfect trust in me, 
but I obey my master alone,” 


TOXAR AND VELDA. 


95 


“ Thou canst indeed speak with a wonderful appear- 
ance of truth and wisdom,’’ said Antinous,as if he were 
liimself in doubt of his slave’s sincerity, so easily had 
he made admission of his use of deceit and falsehood. 
‘‘ But what didst thou say and promise?” 

I promised that she should return, after some delay, 
safe to her native land, if she obeyed me in everything. 
And to get back the weapon 1 promised her another.” 

“ And wilt thou keep thy promises? She is of thine 
own blood.” 

“ I am but a man of means, and I do as my master 
pleases.” 

Voice and look, tone and gesture were the same as 
ever, and his master doubted no more. 

“ A living instrument can have no guile in the hands 
of the craftsman,” said Toxar, as if the doubt had been 
spoken. And he left Antinous wondering over the 
unheard-of humility and resourcefulness of his slave. 


CHAPTER Xiy. 

TELEMOS. 

After many days the other expedition returned 
from the South, and at dead of night the leader and the 
remnant of his followers were admitted by the man of 
means to the capacious royal hall. In the midst of the 
company was a tall figure completely hidden from the 
neck downwards in an ample Grecian robe, and above 
the head and face were covered with a thick veil. 

Have ye, too,” said the king, only brought back one 
captive, and no other rarities, living or dead?” 

The leader saluted his ruler with confidence, and said : 
“We have brought thee, O king, from the ends of the 
earth a man utterly unlike any ever seen- in Greece.” 

“Unveil thy wonder.” 

“ Is he chained?” said the queen. 

“ He is not bound,” replied the leader, “ for in his 
case fetters are useless. At first, when we came upon 
him and his companions, they fought with fury to 
escape, and his companions were all slain in the fray, 
and the man himself grievously wounded. But we 
tended him carefully, and, as if affected by our kind- 
ness, he became quiet and peaceful, and now he does 
all that we desire at the least sign. He is, in truth, a 
wonder. But see for yourselves.” 

As he spoke he carefully removed the veil from the 
man’s face, and at a sign the man himself threw down 


TELEMOS. 07 

his heavy cloak, and stood before them in a simple 
Grecian habit. 

“See!” said the leader, bringing his captive to a 
large lamp made of many cunningly-devised branches, 
throwing light on every side. “Is he not indeed a 
wonder 

As soon as the veil had been withdrawn, Antinous 
had started with sudden astonishment, for around the 
man’s head was a golden circlet in size and shape like 
that he had taken from the violated tomb; and in the 
centre was a shining jewel. 

“ Strange chance,” he thought, “ if this captive should 
be of the race of the ancient hero.” But as he looked 
more closely the circlet and the jewel seemed but bar- 
baric ornaments and his thoughts foolishness, and he 
said to the leader : 

“ Such a man ye might have bought for me in any 
island of the Greeks where the sun shines with its full 
strength. Surely, he is but an Asiatic at the best, and 
no rarity.” 

“Nay,” said the leader, “he was reared far from the 
land of the Greeks, and no Greek, save perchance 
Odysseus in olden times, ever saw his people. Be not 
deceived by his Grecian dress, but look again more 
narrowly.” 

“ The man,” said Antinous, “ is well-knit, large of 
frame, and well-favored and regular in countenance, but 
no wonder amongst the men of Greece. Ye have loi- 
tered and idled, and would beguile me with a strange 
tale.” 

“ Look again, O king. Dost thou see nothing strange 
in the man’s face and eyes?” 

7 


98 


TOXAR. 


“ His eyes are full and black, and seem to betoken 
much intelligence; but many Greeks have eyes like 
his, and the curse of all Greeks is too great cunning.” 

The leader, in spite of the king’s apparent disap- 
pointment, seemed to take pleasure in trying to excite 
the curiosity of the onlookers. He turned to the queen 
and said, with obsequious deference: ‘‘Perchance the 
eyes of the queen will be quicker to detect the marvel, 
for there is a marvel.” 

“ I see nothing strange in the man himself,” said 
Atossa; “but in the middle of the golden circlet he 
wears a wondrously strange and beautiful jewel. See,” 
she said to the king, “ how it shines and changes color 
in the light.” 

To describe the jewel would be a matter of inexpress- 
ible difficulty, for it shone, as it were, at the same time 
with the gentle fire of the ruby, the richer purple of 
the amethyst, and the sea-green of the emerald, and the 
colors fiashed and interchanged and mingled their glo- 
ries in the manner of the opal, but far more wondrously. 
Grace went out from it, and majesty shot forth from its 
almost divine splendor. The eyes of Atossa were daz- 
zled by the sight, and to her the beauty of the jewel 
was almost terrible ; but Antinous answered calmly : 

“I was looking on the man, and not on his orna- 
ments. Yet, the jewel does indeed seem a wonder — 
like to an opal, and yet something different; but a won- 
derful jewel does not make the wearer wonderful.” 

“ But this jewel,” cried the leader, “ is not only a 
wonder, but makes a wonder also of the man himself. 
Look more closely. The man is very peaceable. Look, 
but touch not, for that he cannot bear.” 


TELEMOS. 


99 


Antinons again remembered the ancient hero as he 
advanced, and observed that the circlet was curiously 
graven ; but when he came closer to the prisoner his 
eyes were fastened on the jewel. He looked steadfastly, 
and then held up his hand ; but the leader checked him 
with a sign and said, “Did I speak truth, O king?” 

“How did ye contrive this device? for to me it ap- 
pears almost as if the jewel grows in the brow of the 
man, and certainly it is not held by the gold.” 

“This time thou hast hit the mark, O king, for the 
wonder lies in this. The jewel is as much a part of 
the man as his eyes and hands. This we discovered 
when he fell wounded amongst his dead companions. 
Thinking him, too, slain, I tried to take his golden cir- 
clet and shining jewel. Then I saw at once that they 
were separate, and I took away the circlet, but the jewel 
seemed to be fastened in the skin of the man’s fore- 
head; and as I touched it to pluck it forth, the man 
groaned and lifted his hand in defence. And I looked 
closely and saw clearly — as thou shalt see, if the captive 
will — that the jewel was part of the living man.” 

He looked to the prisoner and said, “Wilt thou al- 
low the king, thy present master, whose servant I also 
am, to see for himself this living wonder?” The man 
bowed his head, removed himself the golden circlet, 
but answered nothing. 

Antinous looked at the setting of the jewel, and 
could no longer doubt the word of the leader. Then 
he called to the queen, but she was afraid, and whis- 
pered, “ It is some evil charm. I cannot.” 

“ The man,” said Antinous, “ is no monster, but al- 
most god-like in appearance. Look, then, O man of 


100 


TOXAR. 


means ; thou at least art not wont to be afraid to do 
my bidding. Look nearly. Surely this is no wonder 
to thee. Explain to us the mystery or the deceit.” 

Toxar advanced and turned his restless glances on 
the jewel, and eyed the man narrowly, and surveyed 
his whole bearing with the utmost care. Then he said 
simply: ‘‘I have never seen or heard of aught like 
this. For of a surety the jewel is part of the man.” 

“ Then,” said Antinous, “ if thy wisdom is at fault, 
O greatest of travellers, he is indeed a wonder, and our 
only hope is that he will explain to us himself. He 
seems to understand our tongue. Can he not speak ?” 

Alas,” said the leader, “ the only matter for regret 
is that the man seems dumb. He either cannot or 
will not speak since the battle in which he was cap- 
tured, though in the fight both he and his comrades 
shouted their war-cries and spoke as it seemed articu- 
lately. Methinks he is really dumb since his capture. 
But he quickly learned our speech, and will do as we 
bid him without the least backwardness. It is indeed 
wonderful how readily he understands all that is said. 
This we have proved many times; but, alas! he is 
dumb.” 

“ And what thinkest thou of the jewel ? And why 
does he wear the gold ?” 

As for the gold, perchance he was a king, or per- 
chance it is for the protection of his wonder. For it 
is so contrived that it forms, except in front, a kind of 
shield, and is as it were a setting. But as for the won- 
der itself I cannot divine. Methinks sometimes it is 
his god, for all the barbarians worship precious stones, 
and this is the most wonderful of all.” 


TELEMOS. 


101 


“If,” said Antinons, “the man, as thou thinkest, 
bears with him his god, perchance he is dumb from 
disdain, and will only speak to the kings of men. He 
seems to treat thee and thy companions with the com- 
placency of kingly contempt. I will speak to him.” 
He turned to the captive and saluted him, and said : 
“ O wonder of the age, wilt thou deign to explain this 
mystery to me, for thou must dwell long in my halls, 
and if thou art indeed a king or n god I would fain 
treat thee with befitting honor.” 

The man looked on the king unmoved, but answered 
not a word. 

After waiting in vain for a reply, Antinous said to 
Toxar : “Take him away, and tend carefully to all his 
wants. I will talk further with his captor.” 

And when they had departed Antinous and the 
queen asked many questions of the leader regarding 
the man and his jewel. But he could learn nothing 
more, and he was vexed to find that the captive was in 
all other respects but a man of common nature, and, 
though gifted with extraordinary intelligence, seemed 
to have besides no special power. 

He dismissed the leader, and said to the queen : 
“ This living jewel will make an excellent oracle, and 
the man’s dumbness will make him so much the more 
tractable soothsayer. What thinkest thou, my queen 
of delights ?” 

“It is surely a charm, and I am fearful of some evil. 
Thou knowest I have no courage.” 

“Yet once at least,” said Antinous, “thy courage 
was astonishing — the first time I saw thee, and thought 
in my foolishness to put thee to death.” 


102 


TOXAR. 


“That,” she said, “was the courage of despair and 
the love of life. But for daring I have none. I was 
born for love, and love is my breath.” 

And Antinous embraced her with renewed fondness 
to comfort her for her weakness, and he knew nothing 
of the inmost feelings of the woman, and that in spite 
of her cowardice and love of life she could, on a fitting 
occasion, rise to the utmost heights of daring for her 
purpose. 


CHAPTER XV. 

TELEMOS AND VELDA. 

Day by day Yelda, the captive priestess, did as she 
was bidden by the man of means in the desire of gain- 
ing her freedom, although he gave her not a weapon, 
according to his promise, but ever soothed her with 
soft words and hopes. She stood unmoved as the 
statue of a goddess in the midst of the people, and, 
without understanding a word that she uttered, pro- 
nounced the dooms ordained by Antinous. And a 
terror fell upon the crowd as the cruel words fell from 
her lips, for it was soon known that all her prophecies 
were sure of fulfilment. 

•And day by day the man of means exercised all his 
skill to unveil the mystery of Telemos, the god-bearer, 
as he had been called in jest by Antinous, but he dis- 
covered nothing new for all his labor. The man 
seemed quiet and peaceful, and understood readily, 
and did as he was bidden with easy dignity, but he 
spake no word. His captors, under pain of death, had 
been enjoined to say nothing to the people of the liv- 
ing wonder, and, attended by Toxar, he was allowed to 
go about the city, the golden circlet and the jewel hid- 
den by a fillet. He passed for one of the multitude 
of strangers specially honored of the king. And at 
first it was rumored that he was a priest from a distant 


TOXAR. 


lO-i 

trib6, who had been banished in a rebellion and, like 
many others, sought refuge in a city famous for its 
hospitality. 

Antinous, however, had determined to carry out his 
plan for a hereditary priesthood in its entirety, and, 
impatient of delay, he commanded Toxar to devise a 
great festival in which the wonder of the living jewel 
should be displayed to the people. He considered it 
an advantage that the man was dumb, for, without fear 
of contradiction, the jewel might be endowed with all 
kinds of wonderful qualities, and would form an excel- 
lent foundation for the new religion. 

The man of means, however, still counselled delay, 
and said : 

“ All that this woman of my race has done has been 
through the promise of freedom. I fear that nothing 
will persuade her to wed any man not of her own 
blood, and she will never live in prolonged and certain 
captivity.” , 

‘‘The man,” said the tyrant, “looks a king and ever 
wears a regal circlet, and every woman is by nature 
unstable and fickle.” 

Even as he spoke the memory of Ilermione belied 
liis words, and at the same time the image of Atossa 
made liim fearful of the truth. But they passed away 
as the man of means said abruptly : 

“Not the women of my race.” 

“ Dost thou speak of obstinacy of nature, thou slave of 
the broken spirit ? Nay, if needs be, we will break her, 
even as thou wast broken.” And Antinous was angered. 

“This woman thou wilt never break. I was but a 
boy, and her courage is full-grown.” 


TELEMOS AND VELDA. 


105 


“ Try, then, thy guile in the first place ; but let there 
be no delay, or I will try my force.” 

The next day, when, as usual, the fair-haired bar- 
barian questioned Toxar on her escape, he answered : 

“ Escape for thee alone is well-nigh impossible.” 

“ But thou wilt come also ?” 

“ Nay,” he said, “ my life is done, and my spirit has 
once for all been broken.” She tried to give him 
courage, but he continued, “ Thou must seek the aid 
of another.” 

‘‘ But who is there in this dreadful place? I loathe 
the sight of all its people.” 

‘‘ The king,” said Toxar, has another captive, by 
name Telemos, destined to act as his priest. He shall 
escape with thee.” 

“ Is he of our blood ?” 

“ I know not his race, but he is of open heart and 
full of courage. Trouble and danger bind more close- 
ly than blood.” 

“ Let me see him and hear his story before I put my 
trust in him.” 

“ Alas !” said Toxar, “ the man is dumb. The 
slaughter of his kinsmen and his captivity seems sud- 
denly to have taken away his speech.” 

“ How knowest thou, then, that he will desire to es- 
cape ?” 

“ Breathes there a captive in this world, whose spirit 
is not utterly broken, who would not gain his free- 
dom ?” 

Velda sighed heavily and said : 

“Bring him to me. I will read the truth in his 


106 


TOXAR. 


Toxar at once brought to lier his strange prisoner 
and said to him in Greek : 

“ This is thj fellow-captive, of whom I have told 
thee the story, and whom thou hast once heard proph- 
esy.” 

The man looked with friendly, deferential glance on 
Velda, and inclined his head as if to make an honor- 
able salutation. 

“ This,” said the man of means, ‘‘ is the first token 
of respect he has shown to any in this city. What 
dost thou think of him 

“He is as unlike these lying Greeks,” she said 
fiercely, “ as this painted woodwork is unlike the green 
branches of the forest. Him I will trust. But, alas ! 
of what avail is a dumb man ?” 

Telemos looked on her with friendly assuring 
glances, but spoke not. 

“ Perchance,” said tlie man of means, “ he is only 
dumb by design, and thou canst make him speak.” 

“ Alas !” she said, “ he will not understand our ' 
tongue.” 

“ I know not,” said Toxar, “ yet his eyes look as if 
he knew thy meaning.” 

Yelda addressed him, and asked him his story; but, 
as usual, he answered nothing. 


CHAPTEE XYL 

PRIEST AND PRIESTESS. 

The captives were often brought together b}' the 
man of means, but he told them nothing of the king’s 
furtlier designs. And to Yelda’s angry inquiries when 
and how she could escape, and of what avail was the 
dumb man, he answered only that time would show 
and that she should suffer no wrong. And of Telemos 
he could learn nothing, for the man himself would not 
or could not speak, and his captors had taken him, as 
it were, by chance from a remote and forgotten island, 
and Yelda knew nothing of the jewel or the circlet, 
for they were always hidden by a broad fillet. 

In the meantime Antinous, always impatient of de- 
lay, and vexed with the shortness of life, determined 
forthwith to make the god-bearer his new priest, and 
to wed him to his priestess. And he bade the man of 
means prepare a great festival for the display of the 
god-bearer’s jewel, and he labored to invent the most 
extraordinary and astounding qualities wherewith to 
endow the living gem, in order to beguile the people 
to his liking. 

In vain the man of means protested that, owing to 
the infirmity of Telemos and his strangeness of blood, 
Yelda looked on him as altogether inferior, and that 
witliout full and free consent the women of her race 
would never wed, even were it to escape death. An- 


108 


TOXAR. 


tinous insisted so much the more, and threatened force 
and torture if guile and fair-speaking failed. 

“I will myself,” he said, “now manage the affair, 
since thou hast failed me — doubtless softened to use- 
less pity by the ties of supposed kinship.” 

“ A perfect slave,” he replied, “ is as pitiless as the 
sea, and his only kinship is with the sword of his mas- 
ter; and I am, without comparison, the most perfect 
idea of a slave since the world began.” 

“ Truly,” said Antinous, “ methinks thou art proud 
of thy slavery and thy unquestioning obedience.” 

“ Neither pride nor pity have I ; and no more than 
a dead dog do I feel for any one affection or hatred ; 
nothing do I hope for and nothing do ITear. My 
spirit is broken, and I find my only rest in obedience. 
Slay me if thou art not satisfied, or sell me and my 
obedience to another, and I will serve him ; to me it 
is all one.” 

“ Has thou, then, for me no affection and no regard?” 

“I speak only truth to my master, and have I not 
already answered ? What more wouldst thou have of 
a slave than slavish obedience ?” 

“Yet,” said Antinous, “for all thy boasting I some- 
times mistrust thee. Look to it that in this matter 
thou act only as my interpreter to this stubborn bar- 
barian. Say not one word and look not one look be- 
yond the meaning of my utterance.” 

The man stood unmoved and began as was his wont: 
“ I hear — ” 

But Antinous was angered, and said fiercel}^ : “ If 
thou art false in one tittle I will make thy spirit seven 
times more broken than it is. And mark this — I will 


PRIEST AND PRIESTESS. 


109 


Lave no more of thine afiected equality — nay, superi- 
ority. If thou wilt be a perfect slave, do my bidding 
without pretence.’’ 

The words of Antinous fell upon the slave as lightly 
as a gentle breeze plays on a rock. He showed not 
one sign of fear or remonstrance, or the slightest con- 
cern, as he said with his usual simplicity : “ I have still, 
it seems, something to learn. I will study my looks, 
as do the women of the East, and learn the trick of 
seeming affection, if such is the master’s will.” 

“ He would not dare,” thought Antinous, “ to point 
at the queen. Hay, it is but the old proverb, and I 
have done the man wrong and wasted the golden 
hours.” Then, after a pause, he said aloud : “ I did but 
prove thee once more, even as I might try the edge of 
a well-tried sword, or the point of an arrow. Come! 
I believe thee. Thou art a perfect slave^ and I will 
do thee no harm.” 

‘‘ As the king pleases,” said Toxar. 

They went together to Telemos, and with him An- 
tinous made no delay, but said abruptly : “ Long enough 
hast thou enjoyed my hospitality without return, yet 
will I bestow on thee a greater favor than before. I 
will give thee to wife the beautiful barbarian Yelda, 
my renowned priestess; and thou too shalt become a 
priest, and ye shall be held in the highest honor, ye 
and your children.” 

The man answered not, but a slight flush of agitation 
showed that he had understood the words of the king. 

“What! will not even this gift drag from thee a 
word of thanks?” The man remained silent, his agita- 
tion passed, and he looked on the king as if he re- 


110 


TOXAR. 


garded him almost with contempt. And Antinous 
was again angered, and said : “ This is enough of si- 
lence. Doubtless the priestess will give us greater 
entertainment with her barbaric volubility and ve- 
hemence.” 

And the three went to Yelda. 

As soon as she saw the king she stood up and 
looked upon him with such fierce hatred that the plan 
he had devised to use his skill as an orator fell to the 
ground, and he said to Toxar: “Waste no time with 
this caged lioness, but say as I bid thee. Tell her 
that this very day she shall wed this man.” 

“ The king, our master,” said Toxar, in the barbaric 
tongue, “ bids me tell thee that this very day ” — he 
made a moment’s pause as if to call the attention of 
the king — “ thou shalt wed this man.” And he 
pointed to Telemos. 

If Antinous had ever doubted the good faith of his 
interpreter, now at least he knew that his command 
had been truly rendered. 

The eyes of the untamed barbarian flamed with 
scorn and anger, and for a moment she was breathless 
with wrath. Then looking on the slave with wide 
eyes, she said : “ Thou hast deceived me. But I will 
no longer be a helpless captive. From this day, if I 
cannot obtain death more readily, I will neither eat 
nor drink.” 

When Antinous was made aware of the purport of 
her answer, he affected to laugh, and said : “ She will 
the sooner bend to my will as her strength fails. But 
for all that she shall wed my god-bearer this very day. 
Speak to her again in her swallow’s tongue.” 


PRIEST AND PRIESTESS. 


Ill 


The slave did as he was bidden, and Yelda was the 
more enraged, and said : ‘‘ Tell thy master that a cow- 
ard knows nothing of courage.” 

As she spoke she glanced hurriedly round the 
chamber as if in search of a weapon, and then seemed 
to measure her unarmed strength against that of An- 
tinous and his slave. But Toxar was huge of stature, 
and Antinous, when he saw the fierce light in her 
eyes, set firm his foot and half drew the dagger which 
he had always worn since the death of Glaucus. 

At once she saw how vain a struggle would be, and 
feared worse dishonor before she could take refuge in 
death. And as her glances wandered hither and 
thither, like those of a wild creature in the toils, they 
fell upon the dumb captive, the man she was com- 
manded to wed. 

He was gazing upon her with silent admiration, and 
she thought quickly to herself : “ He, too, is in league 
with them, and is glorying over the spirit of her he 
hopes to conquer.” She turned fiercely upon him, 
and said: ‘‘As for thee — thou dumb thing — know 
that if by one look or sign thou darest say in thy 
dumb-show one word of this proffered shame, I will 
slay thee with my bare hand.” 

“ What does she say ?” asked Antinous, with curi- 
osity. “What are her first words to her future lord? 
Methinks it is strange love-making. And see, the 
man seems abashed and, by all the gods ! his eyes are 
full of tears. Drive home the thrust, O man of means, 
and tell me and this dumb Telemos word for word 
what she said.” 

The man of means was about to interpret as he was 


112 


TOXAR. 


bidden, when suddenly Telemos checked him with a 
sign, and tlien to the amazement of all spoke in rapid, 
broken words to Velda in her own tongue. 

“ It seems,” said Antinous, “ that the dumb can also 
speak this swallow’s chatter. Quick, tell me what he 
says.” 

“These, said Toxar, “are the very words: ‘They 
have deceived thee — not I. For I honor thee above 
all women. Put thy trust in me — I will save thee.’ 

“These,” he repeated, “are the very words, faith- 
fully rendered.” 


CHAPTER XYIL 

A NEW RANSOM. 

When Yelda heard her fellow-prisoner speak to her 
in her own language, with such honorable and fervid 
devotion as the barbarians of the North are wont to 
show to the women of their race, and when she saw 
the truth in his every look, she stood silent, utterly 
lost in wonder. And suddenly, as the words of the 
man penetrated the depths of her soul, she was over- 
powered with impetuous gratitude. She had borne, 
with fierce courage, her captivity, and had seen, un- 
daunted, her hopes fall away from her grasp. Yet had 
solitude and distrust begun to eat away her bravery, 
and the threats of Antinous had brought her face to 
face with death. 

And now her heart was filled with a tumult of 
strong barbaric feelings, such as grow not in crowded 
cities, but only in pathless deserts and tangled forests. 
She knew not what to say, or how to speak even a 
word of thanks, and with a passionate impulse she 
seized the hand of Telemos and carried it to her lips. 
And his face fiushed with joy and radiant courage, as 
he felt her unspeakable gratitude. 

“Methinks,” said Antinous, ‘‘these barbarians al- 
ready love one another, and will need none of our 
goading to the yoke. What sayest thou, 0 man of 
wiles and wisdom?” 

8 


114 


TOXAR. 


My wisdom is foolishness, and my wiles are spi- 
ders’ threads to this man’s foot. I had begun to 
believe that he could articulate no word, and lo ! the 
man has learned my mother’s tongue.” 

“Hold,” said Antinous, “it seems that my god- 
bearer would now address his speech to me.” 

And at once Telemos began to speak in the dialect 
of the mother-city of the colony. He spoke slowly, 
and with a strange utterance, even as a barbarian who 
must think at every word in what manner he shall 
move his tongue and draw his breath, and yet he 
made no error that could be put down in writing. 

“ I offer myself,” he said, “ as a ransom if thou wilt 
send back this woman unharmed to her native land.” 

“ It is not the custom of the Greeks,” said Antinous, 
“ for one prisoner to be the ransom of another.” 

“ That I know, but thou has only my body captive, 
not my will. Thou couldst not even command my 
tongue without my consent. But if thou wilt let the 
woman go, I will give thee a priceless gift.” 

“The offer is strange, but thou art a strange creature. 
Say on — I will consider the matter. I have been in my 
time a philosopher, and a man of virtue and temperance, 
and I have been also the opposite for my pleasure. 
And I know — better than any — the trick of changing 
opinions in a moment. What wilt thou give me?” 

“ The secret desire of th}^ heart.” 

“ And what may that be, for I know not ?” 

“ Thy tongue says it not, but for all thy boldness 
thou art full of fear.” 

I fear nothing,” said Antinous — “ nothing — living 
or dead — divine or human.” 


A NEW RANSOM. 


115 


“ Thou fearest to be robbed of thy city and thy 
queen.” 

“ True — if that is fear.” 

“And if I will I can give thee warning of every 
danger better than all thy spies and all thy guards, and 
better than thy trusted slave. Let this woman go and 
I will be thy diviner, not, as was thy design, in out- 
ward show, but in very deed.” 

“Man of means,” said Antinous, lightly, “it is time 
for thee to drown thyself and give thine office to an- 
other. Yet give me, for the sake of old custom and 
habit, one more word of advice. Say, is not a true di- 
viner — mark, a true diviner — worth more than the 
ransom of a fierce barbarian ?” 

“ Let the man be proved — a true diviner is beyond 
price, but among the Greeks a crafty liar is not un- 
common.” 

The man of means spoke simply, as if he would 
weigh the opposing arguments in an even balance. 

The king looked upon Telemos intently, and then 
said, in a low voice, to his adviser: “This man is not 
like a deceiver, and for his dumbness he may have had 
good cause. Yet, what he now seems to promise is 
plainly against the order of nature. Captivity and 
love have doubtless shattered his reason. For all that, 
he may make the better priest, and I will treat him 
according to his madness.” 

Then to the prisoner he said, “ Give me proof of thy 
power and I will let the woman go, and thou shalt have 
ample time to prepare thy divinings. And to test thy 
skill thou shalt wander through the city and pry into 
the hearts of my people. Then will I prepare a mag- 


116 


TOXAR. 


nificent spectacle, as I before intended. And first, that 
it may not fail altogether, the woman shall speak the 
words put into her mouth, as meaningless to her as the 
blast to the trumpet. But as for thee, thou shalt de- 
clare by thine art what man and what woman in the 
whole city are most worthy of death for their secret 
crimes. And if thou canst prove that thy divination 
is just, this woman shall be sent back unharmed. But 
if, like a common soothsayer, thou sayest only words of 
double meaning and vague import, then — ” here the 
king paused to reflect — “ then thou shalt wed the 
woman and pay the oracle according to my bidding. 
Dost thou consent 

“ Thou sayest,” said Telemos, “ that thou wilt let this 
woman go if I bear thy proof ?” 

“ Most assuredly, O true diviner,” said Antinous. 

“ Thou liest, and thou knowest that thou liest,” said 
the prisoner, sternly. 

Antinous looked on him, astonished at his bold pre- 
sumption, and then, with sudden anger, half drew his 
dagger as if he would strike the maa dead. But Tele- 
mos eyed him with such courage that he thouglit it 
shame to strike an unarmed man. 

“ Come,” he whispered to Toxar ; ‘‘ a king cannot 
brawl with a captive. And, if the man proves u, 
good and willing spy, I might well, if he wishes, 
let the woman go. But, methinks, if we leave them 
alone to solitude and nature, he will rather bid her 
stay.” 

“ If,” said Telemos again, I prove myself to be a 
true diviner, thou wilt let this woman go ?” 

“ If !” said the king, “ if ! Most assuredly.” 


A NEW RANSOM. 117 

“This time thou speakest truth — for the moment. 
See thou cleave to it.” 

The pride of Antinous again aroused his anger, but 
he checked his words and left the chamber with the 
man of means, who carefully fastened the door from 
without. 

And Antinous said to him, “ How comes it that the 
dumb can speak both the Grecian tongue and the barba- 
rian ? And how did he so readily guess my meaning 

“ As for the words, many men of no great worth 
know many languages — even as I — and that is surely 
no wonder of itself.” 

“ But what sayest thou to his boasted divination ?” 

“ I know not,” was the reply. 

“ Thou knowest not ? Dost thou, of all men, believe 
in divination — thou the deviser of my oracles?” 

“ The world,” said the man of means, “ is large, and 
the people of Greece are but a small part of the tribes 
of men. And in times past it has been handed down 
that wonders have happened which to us seem incred- 
ible and beyond nature. And though the tales of the 
past be not altogether true, yet, on the other hand, they 
may be not altogether false. And in every people un- 
der the sun there are diviners, and, perchance, here and 
there one has his gift from nature, or from the gods — 
if there be any gods.” 

“ I, at least,” said Antinous, “ believe neither in gods 
nor oracles, save of my own making.” 

“And I,” said the man of means, “am a broken- 
spirited slave, and thus deaf and blind to the higher 
mysteries — if there be any such.” 

“ Thy advice ?” 


118 


TOXAR. 


‘‘Watch narrowly — but believe not, unless the man 
tells thee some secret hidden from all men but thyself 
— even from me. So shalt thou be safe, and not be 
fooled by a trickster.” 

“ Man of means,” said Antinous, “ what dost thou 
think of the jewel of my god-bearer ?” 

“ That it is even such a sport of nature as the pearl 
in the oyster.” 

“ It cannot, perchance, be the seat of some strange 
power ?” 

“I had looked upon it but as a stone; curious to 
see, but as senseless as the nail on the finger. But, 
perchance — ” 

“ Perchance — what ?” 

“ The thought is too foolish for utterance.” 

“ Speak !” 

“ The jewel is perchance the gift of a god. But it 
is not for a slave to believe in gods; his soul is too 
earthy and corrupt, and, besides, deadened with too 
much obedience.” 

“ If thou wilt unbare this mystery — so much is my 
curiosity aroused — I will set thee free, and give thee 
wealth and let thee go.” 

“ Doubtless I will unbare the mystery, and take the 
heart from the puzzle ; but for freedom, it is as useless 
to me as food to the dead. I live to obey. I have no 
will, no thought, no wish, save for my master — for the 
time being.” 

“ Thou art, indeed, a perfect slave ; but why didst 
thou mar thy fine speech with the last words ?” 

“For the time being?” said Toxar. “Because, O 
king, I speak only truth to my master.” 


A NEW RANSOM. 


119 


‘‘Enough of this folly. Let us return, and again 
question our captive. Now that he can speak, he may 
well explain at once the nature of his power — if power 
he has. If he is but a common soothsayer he will lies- 
itate and delay, and in any case we may learn some- 
thing of the man. Come ! let us return.” 


CHAPTER XYIIL 


HOPE. 

As soon as Telemos found himself alone with Yelda 
he spoke to her with vehemence ; and, although some- 
times he stumbled in his haste over the strange sounds 
of her language, she readily understood the import. 

‘‘ Thy father, with his host — I have learned it secretly 
from a new-comer to the city — is rapidly approaching, 
lie has made allies of the surrounding tribes, and in a 
few days the combined forces will make an attack.” 

“ And then — freedom and vengeance !” she cried, and 
clapped her hands with delight. 

But the matter is not so easy,” he rejoined, “ for 
the place is too strong by nature and art to be taken 
by a direct assault. And thy people know nothing of 
military engines, and their allies know not enough.” 

^“^Then,” she said, proudly, they can wait a month, 
or a year, until the city falls by hunger. Often have 
they done this before a walled place, and in the end 
left not one stone upon another, nor a piece of wood 
unburned.” 

“ But thy friends have no shipping, and with the sea 
open, and abundance of silver, this tyrant can stand a 
siege forever.” 

Yelda’s face fell, and Telemos hastened to add : “ I 
have, however, hit upon a plan that is certain of suc- 
cess if only thou wilt trust me.” 


HOPE. 


121 


‘‘I trust thee,” she said, simply, with frank, open 
eyes. 

“ Trust me and grant me a little delay, for the ease 
stands thus : I am a man whose kindred has been ut- 
terly destroyed by the caprice of this tyrant — him I 
hold guilty, and not only his servants. I am a man, 
and I would be revenged. And, to make certain, I have 
waited long, and thou mayst well wait a little.” 

“Kevenge,” said the fierce barbarian, “is a sweet 
draught for a god. I, too, would be revenged on these 
smooth, fawning Greeks. With mine own hand I 
would fain slay this tyrant and fire his city.” 

“But,” continued Telemos, with hesitation, “al- 
though at first I had thought only of vengeance, since 
I have known thee my purpose has partly changed.” 

“ Surely,” she said, “ thou hast never learned pity 
from me 

“To save thy life I would forego my vengeance.” 

“ And I,” she replied, “ if chance favored me, would 
not forego my vengeance to save my nearest kin, nor 
would they wish it.” And she paced the chamber 
with clinched hands. “ If,” she added, “ thou canst 
destroy this city think not of me. I shall die happy, 
burned in the fiames or crushed by the falling walls. 
I hate these walls and this people.” 

“Listen ! Vengeance thou shalt have to the full if 
thou wilt wait a few days.” 

She looked upon him a moment with questioning 
eyes, and then at once fixed her mind. “ I will wait 
— patiently — and will aid thee if I can.” 

“And wil,t thou trust me altogether? For I would 
secure thy safety as well as vengeance.” 


122 


TOXAR. 


‘‘Assure revenge,’^ she said, hotly, “and think not 
of me.” 

“I will think of both — but I may not unfold my 
plan at present, even to thee.” 

“ As thou wilt,” she said. “ I have not yet earned 
thy good faith. It is not long since I poured out my 
anger upon thee.” 

“ I honor thee the more for thy wrathful pride.” 

“When wilt thou begin? Wilt thou tell me thus 
much ?” 

“ I have already begun, in the words I said to the 
tyrant a little while ago.” 

“ And what didst thou say ? I saw that he was en- 
raged.” 

“ That he lied — ” 

“That,” she said, “was brave of a captive.” 

“ But that I would prophesy for him.” 

“ Ah ! Yet I too have done it.” 

“ I would only gain time and opportunity. I will 
explain hereafter. Hark ! They again approach.” 

“ I hear nothing,” she said. 

“ Trust no one, not even this mad slave.” 

“ Is he then mad ?” she asked. 

“ Nay — not mad as thou meanest, but he is utterly 
unlike other men. But they come. One word more. 
To gain time I may tell them that thou hast con- 
sented ?” 

She drew back with sudden anger. “That thou 
shalt not say, even for a moment and for a known pre- 
tence, not to save my life. Never will I wed at their 
bidding. Never will I seem to promise for an instant 
— never ! Never — tell them that, again and again !” 


HOPE. 123 

“ May I not tell them that if thou art left as free as 
before thou wilt consent — ’’ 

“ Never!” 

“ Nay, listen ; only to say their oracles and do their 
bidding with speaking words that thou dost not under- 
stand.” 

“ Yes,” she said, grimly, I will be their raven, and 
one day I will bark when they bid me speak.” 

They are close at hand. In a few days — if thou 
wilt trust me — thou shalt be free and this city shall be 
destroyed.” 

“ And if,” she said, “ thou wilt give me life and free- 
dom and vengeance for my wrong, thou shalt be joined 
to my tribe — the bravest people on the earth. And 
in time, perchance, thou mayst forget the loss of thy 
kindred.” 

Her face softened with womanly pity, and the kin- 
less man sighed deeply as Antinous entered with his 
man of means. 

“ O king,” said Telemos, with dignity, thy captives 
must bow to thy commands save in one thing.” 

“ Explain.” 

“ This woman will prophesy according to thy bidding, 
as before, and I will prophesy — according to truth.” 

Antinous laughed, and said : That shall be proved.” 

“ Grant me only a reasonable delay to discover the 
secrets of the city.” 

“A reasonable delay I will grant. Thou thyself 
shalt appoint the time — always, as thou sayest, within 
reason — for the trial of thy skill. So far good — I am 
glad that you have both learned obedience. And now 
say also what it is that ye will not do.” 


124 : 


TOXAR. 


I have spoken with this captive woman and I have 
seen into her heart. I would choose death rather than 
\ved her at thj bidding.’’ 

Again the king laughed, and said : “ That we will 
leave to nature and opportunity. In the meantime do 
thy prophesying, and, if thou hast the courage, woo 
this untamed barbarian.” 

“ I will prophesy — the truth. For the rest I do no 
man’s bidding. I have spoken — ye may depart.” 

He made a royal gesture as if to dismiss them. An- 
tinous stared upon him with angry wonder, but re- 
strained his wrath. Before I go,” he said, I would 
fain learn something of thy secret.” 

This day tliou shalt learn nothing.” 

“And when will my prisoner deign — ?” 

“ On the day on which I prophesy for thee — thou 
shalt learn, perchance, more than is thy wish of my 
power.” 

“ Come,” said Antinous to his slave, “ for the pres- 
ent we will use gentle means. Take thou the sooth- 
sayer throughout the city, and let him discover its se- 
crets or invent his tale. And look thou,” he whispered, 
“if opportunity arises, wrest his secret from him — if 
he has any secret.” 

And the three departed, and left Yelda wondering 
over the words of her strange companion. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE LIVING JEWEL. 

By the king’s command the two captives were al- 
lowed still greater freedom than before, and were per- 
mitted to meet without the surveillance of the man 
of means. 

Telemos, however, never appeared without the broad 
fillet, which completely hid the golden circlet and the 
living jewel. And in spite of their growing friendship 
he refused to disclose his plan, although he constantly 
assured his companion that it would certainly succeed. 
He encouraged her to talk of her life in the forests, the 
bravery of her kinsmen, and especially the rites with 
which a man of strange blood might on occasion be ad- 
mitted to the tribe. And Yelda every day discovered 
some new bond of sympathy, as the man’s nature un- 
folded. 

Yet at the same time she never saw him without a 
feeling of strangeness, and even of repulsion, which 
she could hardly overcome. 

In their first interviews she had regarded the dumb, 
gentle prisoner as altogether her inferior, and had pit- 
ied him for his misfortune and infirmity, but now their 
positions had entirely changed. Telemos spoke, with- 
out the least doubt or hesitation, of their escape after 
the destruction of the city, and he appeared to hold 
the king in the greatest contempt. As often as Yelda 


126 


TOXAR. 


ventured to express the slightest fear he laughed, as if 
the matter were not worth discussing, and began to 
talk again of the beauties of lake and woodland. 

The quickness of his intelligence was astonishing, 
and she never ceased wondering at his perfect knowl- 
edge of her language. 

“Surely,” she said to him, “it was thy mother’s 
tongue — and yet it sounds strangely in my ears.” 

“ 1^0,” he replied, “ I learned it entirely from thee 
and this mad slave,” for so he always called the man 
of means. 

“It is wonderful — for I have heard these Greeks 
talk together for months and I hardly understand one 
word that they speak. But thou — without any effort 
— canst speak and understand both their tongue and 
mine. Tell me the secret of thy power.” 

“ Alas,” he said, almost mournfully, “ I fear to tell 
thee all the secret of my power — for this is but a small 
part.” 

“Thou dost not think,” she said, fiercely, “that I 
would betray thee, even by accident.” 

“ I would trust my life in thy hands.” 

“ I have long thought,” she said, “ that thou art dif- 
ferent from the common race of men. Perhaps thy 
distant country is on the borderland of the haunts of 
the gods — and from them thou hast learned some won- 
derful secrets.” 

“ I never heard of gods,” he replied, “ until I was 
captured by these evil men ; and their gods are made 
of their own foolish imaginings. In this place there 
are certainly no gods, and in my country there were 
none. Plants and animals there were in plenty — some 


THE LIVING JEWEL. 


127 


like and some unlike those in this place, and men and 
women there were — a small tribe — but gods there were 
certainly none, neither in sea nor air nor forest.” 

“My country,” said Yelda, “is full of gods.” 

“ How dost thou know ? I would gladly see one of 
thy gods.” 

“They are not often seen,” said the barbarian, sim- 
ply, “ but sometimes they appear ; not the greatest — 
the wielder of the thunderbolt — but the spirits of the 
woods and the streams, who are more like men and 
women. I have seen them myself.” 

“Thou? Tell me, then, what is their shape and 
substance ?” 

“ It is not good,” she said, “ to speak of such things. 
Yet if one day thou art joined to my kindred thou 
must certainly worship our gods — and I will tell thee a 
little.” 

“ Tell me their powers.” 

“ They can do all kinds of things, beyond the power 
of man. They can move as quickly as the wind — 
unseen and unheard, if they will. And,” here she 
whispered, “they can look into the very heart, and 
tell the true from the false. They are terrible.” 

“ Ah !” said Telemos, “ in thy country only the gods 
can do that ?” 

“ Surely,” she said, “ for once thou hast not under- 
stood — no man can peer into the heart of another.” 

“ Wilt thou not tell me of the appearance of any one 
of them ?” 

“I was once,” she replied, after long hesitation, 
“ hunting in the forest — for with us the women also 
follow the chase. And lost my companions, and night 


128 


TOXAR. 


fell, and I made for myself a bed of leaves and grasses 
beside a stream. The moon and the stars twinkled in 
the water, and I watched their images in a dark pool. 
At the head of the pool, where the stream entered, 
were moss-covered stones, and lower down, where it 
became still and wide, was a bed of tall reeds and 
rushes. I lay quite still, and tried to listen to the 
splash of the water and the rustle of the leaves, and 
to look on things I knew, for it is not good to hear or 
see the spirits against their will. And suddenly I heard 
a strange, soft, gurgling sound, as if the stream were 
trying to laugh ; and then I saw the face of a little old 
man come out from the bed of reeds and go in front 
of the image of the moon. And I shut my eyes, and 
when I looked again it was gone.” 

‘‘And that was a god?” 

“ Surely !” And with growing confidence at his 
surprise and disbelief, “ and I have often seen them.” 

“ How ? Tell me plainly.” 

“ What they like best is to put on the shape of curi- 
ous trees and creatures, and sometimes they make them- 
selves so like that I have been deceived. But if any 
one dares to look closely and say charmed words, they 
always vanish into the air, or leave their hiding-place. 
I once saw a wood-spirit in a bush, and it seemed so 
gentle and friendly that I walked towards it. And, 
even as I approached, it melted away, and I found only 
the leaves and branches. But there was no footprint 
of any other creature, and I knew it was a god.” 

“ Ah !” said Telemos, “ methinks in my country there 
were gods of this kind.” 

“ I was sure of it,” she said, hastily, “ and doubtless 


THE LIVING JEWEL. 


129 


thy power — whatever it is — has been given to thee by 
some god. Tell me, if thou wilt trust me so far.” 

Trust thee ? Ay, with the utmost faith, but — ” 
and he paused. 

“But — ? What is thy fear?” 

“ I would not make thee afraid. Friendship cannot 
live with fear.” 

“ I know fear by name only. Tell me, lest I begin 
to distrust thee, and even hate thee,” she said, fiercely. 

“ Not much longer,” he said, “ can the delay be made, 
and therefore will I tell thee, although now I know at 
last I shall lose the happiness of thy friendship.” 

Slowly and reluctantly he unbound the broad fillet, 
and showed to her the golden circlet and the wonder- 
ful jewel. And the jewel shone with the liquid lustre 
of a living eye, and, in the light of the sun, gleamed 
and glowed against the red gold. 

And Yelda was amazed at the wondrous beauty of 
the jewel, and said, softly: “Now for the first time I 
understand how gems and gold may rule the world. 
Surely thou wast a great king, and thy craftsman 
wrought most cunningly.” 

“ I was a king,” he said, sadly, “ and the craftsman 
who made this jewel was doubtless a wondrous worker. 
And in this city I am more than a king.” 

“ How can that be, when thou art a captive ?” she 
asked simply, awed by the sad dignity of the man. 

“It is hard to tell thee,” he replied, “for to tell thee 
is at once to lose thy friendship. And yet it must be 
done.” 

“ Keep thy secret,” she said, “ if thou canst not trust 
me.” 


9 


130 


TOXAR. 


“ This jewel,” he said, even as the eye, is part of 
my living self, and with it I can see into the secrets of 
the heart, and know its meaning as easily as thou canst 
see the moving lip or hear the spoken word.” 

She shrank kway from him, stricken with horror and 
dread. “ Fear me not,” he said ; “ thou knowest how 
I honor thee — love thee !” 

“ And all this time,” she cried, thou hast known my 
inmost feelings. Would rather that thou hadst slain 
me. Oh ! — shame — shame — not to be endured !” 

“Thy heart,” he said, “is the bravest, purest heart 
that ever lived.” 

Her face flushed with anger and shame. “ It was a 
coward’s part, the work of a miserable spy, to win my 
friendship — my — alas! the bitter, bitter shame — my 
very love — for thou knowest it — and yet not tell me 
of thy dreadful power.” 

Anger restored her pride, and she struck her breast 
and cried : “ And now look in mine eyes or pry into 
my heart and see how I hate thee for this treachery.” 

“Alas!” said Telemos, “ I feared to lose thy friend- 
ship, and I hoped that, perchance, in time — ” And 
the man’s voice was choked as he felt her scorn. 

Her anger began to give way to pity, and her scorn 
to dread. 

A little while Telemos bowed his head with grief, 
and calmed by heavy sadness, as Yelda again looked 
upon him with fear, he said : 

“ Hate me for my secrecy if thou wilt, but do not 
look on me with such fearfulness. This jewel is but 
a part of my nature, even as the eye or the ear. With 
me it was born, and with me its power will perish ut- 


THE LIVING JEWEL. 


131 


terly. For countless generations the like has been the 
birthright of our royal race — but I am the last of all 
my people.” 

She held up her hands before her face and trembled. 
“ Leave me,” she said, “ I am afraid of thee and thy 
power. It is horrible and monstrous, and no gift of 
the gods. I am filled with terror. Perchance thou 
thyself art one of the spirits of evil — a god of darkness 
and death.” 

“No god am I,” he said sadly, “ but a harmless man, 
with one more sense than other men. Thou dost not 
fear the swallow that, untaught, knows the ways over 
the barren waste of waters — but to me the swallow 
seems more wonderful. And every creature that 
swims or flies or treads the earth has some special gift 
from nature, and the wide plains and lofty hills are 
filled with living wonders. Is it so strange that of all 
the races of men one at least should have a little more 
power than others ? Why should the betrayal of the 
heart stop with the trembling lip or the quivering nos- 
tril — with the sigh or the laugh — with the cheerful 
step or the head bowed with grief?” 

“Of all this,” she said, “I know nothing; but if 
thou speakest truth — and, alas! I feel the truth — 
thou art no man, but a spirit of evil, or,” she added 
hastily, “ of good, perchance ; but, for all that, terrible 
and fearful.” 

“No god,” he repeated, “am I, but a friendless, kin- 
less man, and only stronger than others in this one 
gift.” 

“And canst thou know,” she said with whispering 
dread, “ all that men would conceal ?” 


132 


TOXAR. 


‘‘ The eye and the ear,” he said, “ have their limits, 
and so also my jewel. But as far as the boundaries of 
this city, and a little beyond, my power ranges.” 

She covered her face and said : “lam afraid. Leave 
me ! I will strive to get back my courage and think 
of thee as before.” 

“ In less than three days,” he said proudly, “ thou 
shalt be free and avenged — and that by this very power 
thou fearest so much.” 

“Ah!” she sighed. “If thou givest me life and 
freedom !” and her voice trembled ; and she looked up 
with tearful eyes as she said, “ Leave me !” 

And Telemos left her without a word, and he sought 
the man of means and said fiercely to him : “ To-mor- 
row at daybreak, tell thy master, I will give him proof 
of my power, and name to him the man and the woman 
most worthy of death in this city. Go and prepare 
thy display.” And the man of means eyed him curi- 
ously, and departed to seek the king. 


IV. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A TRUE DIVINER. 

It was quickly rumored through the city that on the 
morrow, at daybreak, the new priest would be brought 
before the people to show his marvellous powers of 
divination, and something was hinted of the living 
jewel. And although no one believed in the gods of 
his fathers, there was, at the same time, hardly one who 
did not believe in divination by new omens and strange 
auguries. And no one doubted that a living jewel 
might be found; the only wonder was how far its 
mysterious power would reach. 

As soon as day broke a great multitude was gathered 
together in a huge temple, which Antinous had ap- 
pointed for the display of the god-bearer. The king 
and queen sat enthroned in Eastern state, for little by 
little Antinous had added luxury to luxury and extrav- 
agance to extravagance, in order to gratify the inor- 
dinate passion of the Persian for magnificent splendor. 

And, first of all, heralds proclaimed that the barbarian 
priestess had again declared that the state was threat- 
ened with danger from within. The common people 
began to question one another and to wonder who the 
new victim would be, eager, as is their wont, to see the 
downfall of any raised above themselves in wealth or 
dignity. Yet a few began to murmur, in whispers. 


134 * 


TOXAR. 


that the strength of the colony was being cut off, as 
they recalled how many had been done to death by the 
new oracle. 

Now it chanced that Antinous had begun to suspect 
two of the chief captains of his mercenaries, and had 
quickly determined to avoid the danger by putting 
them to death. In vain the man of means had warned 
him that too frequent appeals to the last extreme would 
disaffect the common soldiery. The advice had been 
given with the tone of assurance and air of authority 
that always drove Antinous further in the opposite 
course, for, like all tyrants, he believed that wisdom in- 
creased with power and pride. And, as was his wont, 
the man of means was content with warning the king, 
his master, and professed for himself the utmost indif- 
ference to any outcome of chance or fate. 

Yelda, the priestess, knowing nothing of what she 
said, nor the meaning of what she did, spent some time 
in watching the flight of birds and observing other signs, 
and then announced that certainly the city was in dan- 
ger from within. Then she began to draw the lots and 
to determine where the danger lay. 

And after she had finished, with a loud voice she 
cried : “ The safety of the people demands two deaths,” 
and thereupon she named the two leaders, and at a sign 
from Antinous they were quickly seized and bound, 
and hurried away to death. 

And the multitude roared with gratified envy, and 
those next in command took the vacant posts, with all 
the alacrity of men whose trade is life and death. 

Then the heralds proclaimed that the king had ob- 
tained from a far country a soothsayer who was still 


A TRUE DIVINER. 


135 


more wonderful than the ITorthern priestess. For in 
the midst of his forehead was set a wonderful jewel, 
whereby, without signs or aids from bird or beast, he 
declared the truth, and looked into the hidden secrets 
of the future. 

Then they brought forward Telemos, and placed him 
full in the light of the rising sun, for the front of the 
temple was open to the east. And they uncovered his 
head and removed the golden circlet, and when all had 
seen the living jewel gleaming from the forehead of 
the man, they replaced the crown on his brow. 

And the people gazed upon him with wonder and 
dread, for his stately bearing and unmoved counte- 
nance, and, above all, the glitter of the strange jewel, 
at once enchained their belief. 

And many observed that Yelda, the priestess, bowed 
her head and seemed to lose the dignity of her pres- 
ence even as the moon fades before the sun, and they 
wondered and believed so much the more. 

Antinous looked upon him curiously, but the queen 
whispered, I almost repent that we have trusted this 
man so far. Perchance, he has in truth some strange 
power, and certainly the jewel is marvellous.” 

“No creature in the shape of man,” said Antin- 
ous lightly, “ can do what we have feigned this man 
can do. And it matters little whom he names — 
man or woman; there is none in the city whom I 
honor or love above the rest. If he has already 
made enemies let him name them, and they shall 
die the death.” 

“ Hist !” said the queen, “ he is about to speak. See, 
he raises his hand and points to the jewel.” 


136 


TOXAR. 


“ I must teach him the art of oratory,” said the king, 
“ if his voice proves equal to his gestures.” 

Without a word of himself, or the circumstances of 
his case, Telemos, with a loud, clear voice, that rang 
with all its force to the farthest corner of the building, 
began to speak, and though the accents fell somewhat 
strangely on the ears, not a word of the meaning was 
lost. 

‘‘Unlike this woman,” and he pointed to Yelda, who 
stood still with newly found timidity, “ who says what 
she is bidden and knows not herself that it is false, for 
she knows not one word of your tongue, I speak only 
what I will, and I speak what I know to be true. Your 
rulers, in the insolence of pride and folly, have cunningly 
designed to deceive you by a doubtful account of the 
power of this living jewel — for living it is, even as the 
eye or the ear. But they know not, in their foolish- 
ness, that they have stumbled unwittingly on the truth. 
Look not on me, but on them, and see for yourselves 
whether or no I speak truth and reveal hidden secrets. 
Look upon them as I speak.” 

He made a long pause, and the queen said : “ This is 
insolent and audacious — see how the people stare, with 
rude, open eyes.” 

“ I heed them no more than the eyes of a host of 
flies, and I will take care they do not sting. The pause 
of the orator was well timed. I will certainly train 
him in the art — but again he speaks.” 

Suddenly the new priest again raised his hand and 
said : “And to prove my power your rulers have com- 
manded me to name the man and the woman in the 
whole city most worthy of death for secret crimes. 


A TRUE DIVINER. 


137 


And they care not whom I name, for ye are all alike to 
them and unworthy of their regard. What husband- 
man would care for two or three blades of corn, and 
what tyrant will regard two or three lives?” 

Again he paused and looked threateningly on the 
king, and Antinous, with difficulty, restrained his anger. 

“Yet will I, this time,” continued Telemos, “ do their 
bidding, and declare the man and the woman most 
worthy of death. And first I name the woman. There 
she sits,” and he pointed to the queen, and all the people 
saw that she shuddered with sudden affright. 

“ There she sits a queen — in place of her who was 
destroyed at her bidding — Hermione, whom once ye all 
honored and loved. Yet was the lust for power of the 
wandering Persian not satisfied — ” 

“Wilt thou not check this audacity?” said the queen 
to the king, but his eyes were fixed on Telemos, and he 
heard her not. 

“ And therefore she enticed with her snares Glaucus, 
and shamelessly invited him to share her love and the 
tyranny.” 

“Ha!” exclaimed Antinous, as he looked on the 
queen, who seemed terrified and dumb with astonish- 
ment. 

“ But Glaucus was too simple and too faithful, and, 
therefore, he, too, was done to death by the king’s living 
instrument.” Here he pointed to the man of means, 
who remained utterly unmoved, and tried to fix upon 
the speaker his restless, shifting glances. 

“ And the heart of this tawny Persian is full of cor- 
ruption and cruelty, and in one day she would destroy 
this city and its ruler, if she could thereby gain greater. 


138 


TOXAR. 


Without doubt she is more worthy of death at your 
hands than any other woman.” 

Atossa sat, pale and trembling, and she dared not look 
on the king, who eyed her with jealous doubtfulness, 
as he muttered: 

“Has she dared to play with me?” 

But Telemos again took up his denunciation, and said 
quickly : 

“ And as for the man, there he sits — Antinous, your 
tyrant; and bn the large earth there is no man more 
stained with death-worthy crimes.” 

Antinous half rose to his feet, but with a great effort 
checked his wrath and waited. 

“ For first he defiled the tomb of the founder of your 
mother city, and escaped by cunning lies and the inno- 
cent death of another — ” 

The people looked upon their king with horror, for 
honor to the dead lies deeper than any feeling in the 
hearts of the most degraded of Greeks. 

“And next he consented to the death of his child and 
her mother — ” 

A shudder passed through the people as they remem- 
bered all the good deeds of Hermione in the troublous 
past. 

Still Antinous forced himself to listen to the end. 

“ And to preserve his power your tyrant picks out 
for death every man of mark.” Here Telemos turned 
to the soldiery and said : “ Did one of you ever hold 
the highest rank a month without suspicion, or three 
months without death? Ho, nor shall one of you. 
Therefore, I warn you against your betrayers. Look in 
their faces and see if I have spoken the truth.” 


A TKUE DIVINER. 


139 


But Antinous quickly recovered from his dismay, 
and was filled with wrath, and set himself to uproot 
the seeds of disaffection. And with a bold mien he 
rose and said sternly : 

“ Every word that this man hath spoken is utterly 
false, and he shall be forced to declare the truth. 
Doubtless he was in league with the captains who as- 
pired to the tyranny.” 

And the people began to doubt and wonder, and An- 
tinous said to the man of means : 

“ Seize him and bind him fast, and take the priestess 
also. This folly of oracles has gone to dangerous 
lengths.” 

But Telemos cried out boldly: 

“Thy power, O tyrant, is at an end. The bar- 
barians are at thy gates, and surely they shall destroy 
the city.” 

And even as he spoke a man, in breathless haste, came 
forcing his. way through the crowd towards the king. 
And as he did so Telemos again cried out : 

“ This is the messenger of evil tidings, and I see that 
his lips are trembling to say that the barbarians are 
threatening a sudden attack.” 

And the messenger looked on the god-bearer with 
terror, and said : 

“ True, true — but how could this man know the 
truth ?” 

“ Guard well the prisoners,” said Antinous; “I look 
to the defence.” 

And forthwith he placed himself at the head of his 
guards, and hastened to meet the coming danger. 

And the people dispersed, wondering and doubting. 


140 


TOXAR. 


and the queen retreated to her apartments, utterly over- 
come with affright. 

' But the man of means quickly bound his prisoners 
and cast them into a strong chamber, and placed at the 
door one of the most faithful of the guards. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

LOVE AND FEAR. 

The attack which the barbarians had designed, in 
spite of its suddenness, was defeated by the strength of 
the defences of the place by nature and art. It came, 
however, so near to success that Antinous made diligent 
inquiry whence his natural enemies had received such 
an accession of strength, for he perceived that the bold- 
est in the fight were barbarians, strange alike in their 
bodily appearance, their arms, and their war-cries. But 
he learned nothing certain until the man of means, 
after he had put the prisoners under guard, came to his 
aid. And he at once declared that the men were of the 
tribe of the captive Yelda, and had doubtless followed 
after her for rescue or revenge. This opinion was 
speedily confirmed by a message demanding her re- 
lease, and threatening the destruction of the city. But 
Antinous was enraged, and sent back the messenger 
maimed and beaten, having tortured him in vain to 
learn the strength and plan of the enemy. 

And as soon as the safety of the city was secured the 
thoughts of the king turned on the words of the god- 
bearer, and his heart was troubled. He feared to lose 
his authority over the soldiery and the people, if they 
believed what the diviner had spoken. But most of 
all he was maddened with anger and jealous question- 
ings and doubts regarding his queen. 


142 


TOXAR. 


If the man Telemos, by cunning or some unknown 
treachery, had discovered his own secrets, why should 
he not also find out the hidden plots of Atossa? Her 
cowering dread came back upon him with resistless 
force, and he quickly decided to slay her with his own 
hand. And having lost faith in the queen, he lost faith 
altogether, and knew not what to believe or to disbe- 
lieve. He turned suddenly on Toxar, as if he would 
for once take him by surprise, and said : 

“ False slave, it is from thee this false diviner learned 
his lies — if they are lies. Confess thy share in the plot 
or I will break thee in pieces.” 

If it please the king,” said Toxar, “ I knew noth' 
ing of what the man would say.” 

“ How, then, did he learn, for he certainly spoke the 
truth, at least in part, as thou well knowest ? Surely 
such is not the common report regarding Hermione?” 
“Ho.” 

“ How, then, did he hit upon the truth ? Answer — 
quickly.” 

“ Perchance the man is a true diviner.” 

“ Thou wouldst say that I — I— I have been befooled 
by a woman. Surely I will tear the truth from her 
heart. Begone — thy callous, grovelling slavishness 
makes me mad. Stay — I yet believe thou art faithful.” 

“ I live only to obey my master.” 

“ Surely — I have proved thee as never man yet was 
proved. Listen ! I fear that the words of this sooth- 
sayer may weaken my authority. Go through the city 
— above all mix with the soldiery. Be eyes and ears 
to me — and if there is any treachery make report be- 
fore nightfall.” 


LOVE AND FEAR. 


143 


“ I hear and obey,” was the monotonous reply. And 
the slave departed, and Antinous sought the Persian 
in her apartments, his heart filled with the rage and 
cruelty of jealous doubt. 

In the meantime Atossa had fought with her fears, 
even as on the day when she first danced before An- 
tinous ; and she had conquered even as before, and 
hidden her terror with the perfect semblance of love. 
Wearily, but steadfastly, she waited the return of An- 
tinous with lips and eyes and every movement ready 
to break into the tenderness of passion, and as soon as 
he entered she sprang to meet him with every look 
and gesture playing to her purpose. 

“The city is safe, I well know. My king is uncon- 
querable, but too great bravery is dangerous. Wel- 
come, dearest heart !” 

“ The city,” he replied coldly, “ is certainly safe but 
for treachery.” 

“ None would dare betray thee,” she said with con- 
fidence. 

Antinous looked upon her curiously, but she met his 
gaze without any sign of alarm. 

“What dost thou think of this soothsayer?” he 
asked abruptly. 

“Even as thou,” she said. “He is an audacious 
weaver of falsehoods. That fable of the violated 
tomb — ” 

“ That at least was no fable. It was I who did the 
deed that was noised through Greece ; and with my 
oratory I beguiled the people and slew mine enemy. 
Therein at least the diviner divined most truly.” 

The Persian laughed aloud to hide her terror, and 


144 


TOXAR. 


said : “ I did not think even thy courage could go so 
far ; to slay thine enemy with oratory was wonderful. 
I love thee all the more.” 

“ Thou wilt not again seek to betray me he ques- 
tioned, fascinated by her beauty. 

“ I — ” she said, “ betray — thee. Impossible.” 

“Then thou didst not seek, as the soothsayer de- 
clared, to beguile Glaucus ?” 

“ And dost thou dare to tell me,” she laughed back 
to him, “ that I would have betrayed thee for such as 
him?” 

“ Yet he was a brave man and loved thee.” 

“ Brave he might be. I know nought of bravery. 
And he loved me foolishly, as many have done, and he 
hated thee and, as I said, would have slain thee for 
love of me. He was the traitor, not I.” 

“Then regarding thee the soothsayer spoke false- 
ly?" 

The Persian laughed aloud with marvellous art — 
the laugh of a taunting maiden to her lover. 

“ Has thy wisdom,” she said, “ altogether left thee, 
and wilt thou with thine eyes open fall into the most 
common and simple of snares? This soothsayer, like 
the rest of his tribe, may sometimes chance upon a 
grain of truth by sifting many rumors. Doubtless 
thou hast many enemies and they have given him mat- 
ter enough for his art.” 

“But why — how did he dare at the peril of his 
life?” 

“I know not,” she said, “perchance the man is mad 
or he would dethrone thee or — But who can tell 
what a hopeless prisoner would not dare ?” 


LOVE AND FEAR. 145 

Antinous could not withstand her fearless tone and 
innocent bearing, and yet he doubted and said : 

“ Why wast thou so utterly cast down 

“ Because,” she said, “ I am by nature the most cow- 
ardly and fearful of women. And I feared the people 
and even thee.” 

“ And thou didst not seek to beguile Glaucus ?” 

“ Never.” 

Again she had won, and again she hastened to use 
her victory, and said : 

“It is long since I asked of thee a gift, but now I 
ask thee thou must not refuse.” She kissed him on 
the lips and he felt her heart beating on his breast. 

“ If thou art true to me all that I have is thine.” 

“ If — ” she said, “ still if.” 

“ Ask,” he said. I will grant it.” 

“ This diviner,” she said, “ this forger of lies with the 
jewel fastened cunningly to his brow — ” 

“Thinkest thou — ” 

“ Surely,” she said, “ a man is not an oyster to grow 
a pearl, and why would he never let thee or any one 
look closely ?” 

“ It is possible that I believed too quickly.” 

“ Give this trickster to me for a gift ! And first I 
will get his secret, by guile or force, and then he shall 
die the worst of deaths.” She spoke with the extrem- 
ity of rage and cruelty, and continued : “ Not a second 
time shall he try to mar our love. Give him to me 
for a gift.” 

“ If thou canst,” said Antinous, “ lay bare his cun- 
ning I will give him thee for life or death. Do with 
him as thou wilt, with force or guile ; yet slay him not 
10 


146 


TOXAR. 


forthwith, for I too, from his own lips, would know 
the secret of his divinings. Come, we will go togeth- 
er.’’ 

“Nay,” she pleaded; “thou wilt spoil my design. 
Wait thou till I have done. I will not slay him.” 

“ He is thine,” he said, “ till the morrow.” And he 
gave her the signet which the guards were bound to 
honor, and having embraced her passionately, he left 
her. 

Atossa smiled upon him even as he left the apart- 
ment, and then, utterly exhausted with the conflict, she 
fell down helplessly on a couch. She had played her 
part till the danger had sapped her strength. 

In her heart she knew well, not only that Telemos 
had spoken the truth, but that of his own power alone 
he had divined her secret. She had lied to Antinous, 
but to herself she could not lie. She wondered at her 
momentary success, and she feared that as soon as An- 
tinous questioned this terrible revealer he would add 
proof to proof, and then there was nothing but death. 

Sick with terror, she lay still, and one after another 
turned aside the plans that rose in her mind. She 
could not flee from Antinous, and with such a being 
as Telemos guile was as futile as force. 

Never for one moment did Atossa question the 
power of the glorious jewel, or doubt the truth of the 
god-bearer, for no philosophy had ever cramped for 
her the boundless wonders of nature. She saw and 
heard, and believed without questioning. 

The night began to fall, and before the morrow she 
must be prepared, and in spite of the danger there 
seemed to be no better course than to put the man to 


LOVE AND FEAR. 


147 


death. Antinous, indeed, might then suspect; but if 
the man lived, he would certainly know that she had 
thought to betray him. 

Therefore, slowly and heavily, she tried to force her 
will to disobey Antinous, and slay the man before the 
dawn. But she tried in vain, for she feared that his 
wrathful jealousy would again awaken his distrust. 

Long she lay, senseless with fear, the jewel blazing 
before her eyes, and the fierce words of contemptuous 
denunciation ringing in her ears. 

Suddenly her face fiushed with radiant joy. She 
leaped up from her couch and laughed softly to her- 
self. “ Fool that I was, not to think of it before. But 
it is not too late ; the night has hardly begun. With 
thee, sweet ring ” — and she kissed the signet of Antin- 
ous — “with thee I will conquer this evil prophet. For 
with thee I have power, and he with his jewel has 
knowledge only. The horror that I dreaded shall be 
changed into hope.” 

Proudly, and with a firm step, she went alone to the 
chamber where the captives were imprisoned. 


CHAPTEK XXII. 

A SLAVE’S OBEDIENCE. 

A LITTLE while after Atossa had gone to fulfil her 
design, the man of means, by the command of Antin- 
ous, came to him to report concerning the safety of the 
city and the discipline of the mercenaries. 

“What of the soldiery? Hast thou used all thy 
skill to search their hearts ?” 

“ For the present all is well.” 

“How sayest thou — for the present? Dost thou 
fear for the future ? Are there any signs of disaffec- 
tion ?” 

“ The worst of men,” said the slave, “ fear and ven- 
erate dead bones, and the vilest honor the natural af- 
fections in others, and most of all in their superiors.” 

“ All this I know ; but do the people and the mass 
of the mercenaries believe this soothsayer ?” 

“ Ignorance is ever full of superstition.” 

“ How is this ? Thou art not wont to be so careful 
in thy speech. Tell me plainly — is there disaffection 
— is there danger?” 

“ The king, since he assumed the tyranny in the 
Persian style, has not always permitted his slave to 
speak plainly.” 

“ Speak as roughly as thou wilt ; I not only permit 
— I command thee.” 

“ The air is full of mutterings and curses, and the 


A SLAVE’S OBEDIENCE. 149 

belief is spreading that for thy sins the whole city will 
be destroyed.” 

“ Are my gifts so soon forgotten, and the power of 
my hand made light of? Dost thou say that hired 
soldiers will weigh the secret sins of their master 
against his treasure ?” 

“Perchance,” said the slave, “they hope to divide 
the treasure. Certain it is that the mass of the sol- 
diery might easily be led to revolt.” 

“ What ? Are none faithful ? Not even the guard 
that it was thy boast to select and train in discipline ?” 

“ The guard, indeed, is of my choosing and order- 
ing ; and of the guard, every man will die with thee 
or for thee — sin or no sin. Thy signet is their god.” 

Antinous laughed aloud and said : “ There spoke my 
man of means. With thee and thy scholars I fear 
nothing. I trust no man, not even myself, as I trust 
thee. Say, shall we at once — with the aid of the faith- 
ful — sally out and crush the superstitious, disobedient 
rabble ?” 

The slave remained for a time lost in thought, and 
then said : “ Does the king indeed trust no man as he 
trusts me ?” 

“ I have said it — and with truth.” 

“ And the king will in this follow my counsel ?” 

“ Assuredly.” 

“ Then I counsel delay ; to see what the night may 
bring forth. Many a change may occur between the 
sleeping and the waking thought.” 

“ Delay, then, is best ?” 

“ Delay is best — for my master.” The man’s eyes 
seemed to betoken some strange, unuttered thought. 


150 


TOXAR. 


and Antinous said : “ What dost thou mean — for thj 
master ? Is it not best for thee also 

For me ? I am the perfect slave of mj master.” 

“And if,” questioned Antinous, “any evil chance 
befall, everything is ready for escape? The galley is 
laden and well-appointed, and the guards and seamen 
are faithful ?” 

“ Surely.” 

“ See that there is no error regarding my escape — if 
need be.” 

“There shall certainly be no error regarding thy 
escape.” 

As the slave was about to depart, Antinous said to 
him : “ Stay, in delay there is no haste, and I would 
talk with thee more at length. What thinkest thou of 
this soothsayer?” 

“ That he is the most wonderful creature living.” 

“Ha! This is a new thing. Hast thou, then, 
changed thy first thought ?” 

“ Opinion ever follows facts. I have heard the man 
tell of strange things.” 

“Strange indeed,” said Antinous. “With thee I 
may be frank. Thou knowest already that much of 
what he declared was true; but the violation of the 
tomb, that even thou wast not aware of.” 

“Ho.” 

“ Yet therein also he spoke aright, and it is wonder- 
ful how, by a happy guess, he chanced to hear the 
voice of truth in the noises of rumor. Whence does 
he derive his cunning?” 

“ Even as he said,” replied Toxar, “ from the power 
of his new sense.” 


A SLAVE’S OBEDIENCE. 151 

“What! Dost thou, too, believe in the virtue of 
this living jewel 

“It seems strange, indeed, but is only strange in 
that we are not familiar with it. In itself, it is no 
more wonderful than the eye or the ear.” 

“Surely once, at least, thou art simple and fool- 
ish,” said Antinous, scornfully. “And that is easily 
proved ; for though regarding me he spoke the truth 
— by accident and, as I say, by a happy sifting of 
rumors — regarding my queen, he spoke with the ut- 
most falsity.” 

Antinous looked on his slave’s face, and as he looked, 
jealous doubt again seized him ; and he tried to crush 
it with pride, and said again fiercely — “ with the ut- 
most falsity. How dost thou explain this falsehood 
and its audacity 

“ Therein also,” said the slave, unmoved as ever, and 
with measured deliberation — “ therein also, the living 
jewel declared the truth.” 

Antinous sprang up with fury, as if he would slay 
the man where he stood. But doubt again made him 
waver, and he paused and said : “ Prove thy words or 
die. How dost thou know? Thou, at least, hast Jio 
charm, living or dead.” 

“ I saw with mine eyes and heard with mine ears.” 

“ And what didst thou see and hear ?” 

“Even as this god-bearer declared. The Persian 
enticed Glaucus to slay thee, and to take thy place, 
both in the tyranny and in her love.” 

“And why, thou faithless, miserable wretch, didst 
thou not teh me ? Why didst thou let me do to death 
my friend, and by thy hands, and why didst thou let 


152 


TOXAR. 


me live befooled by this tawny wanderer? Surely 
thou hast deserved the worst of deaths.” 

“The king, my master, forbade me to speak one 
word in favor of Glaucus, or even to advise an hour’s 
delay, and therefore he fell over the steep rock and 
perished.” 

Antinous recalled the very words of the slave, and 
checked his anger and said : “ True, but why wilt thou 
always mar thy best counsel with looks and voice that 
urge me to the opposite course?” 

“ Surely,” said Toxar, meekly, “ the look of a broken- 
spirited slave cannot turn the purpose of the mighty 
ruler whom he only lives to obey.” 

“ But this was obedience carried to madness.” 

“ Madness perchance it is that makes me such as I 
am, a living instrument for another. But thou wouldst 
not upbraid the sword that it did not speak, nor the 
shield that it gave no counsel, nor wouldst thou mur- 
mur because the iron looked not kindly on thy pur- 
pose. And as for me, I am even as the iron of sword 
or shield.” 

Antinous was raging with an angry tumult of feel- 
ing, and the words of the slave fell upon his ear even 
as an empty noise. Suddenly he turned on Toxar and 
said fiercely : “ And why dost thou tell me now ?” 

“Methought it was the king’s command, and I ever 
hear and obey.” 

“Never again let me hear thy slavish catch- words. 
Thy obedience has been my bane. Art thou, in truth, 
faithful ?” 

“ Faithful to death — to my master.” 

Antinous looked upon him : “ Often I have proved 


A SLAVE’S OBEDIENCE. I53 

thee, and thou must be true ; perchance mad in some 
strange manner, but true — ” ' 

He stopped speaking and listened with sudden 
alarm. 

“ What is that uproar he asked. 

“ The war-cries of the barbarians and the shrieks of 
the wounded,” said the man of means. 

Again Antinous strained his ears and cried: “But 
the sounds of battle are coming nearer. What doth 
this portend 

“ Assuredly,” said Toxar, “ the enemy is within the 
city, and treachery has already done its work.” 

Again Antinous listened, and after a short delay he 
addressed Toxar with furious impatience. 

“ In any event — and this uproar grows apace — there 
is much to do and to undo. But first of all summon 
hither this poisonous Persian ; with her I will deal in 
a moment.” 

The man of means turned to go, but Antinous cried : 
“ Stay, that is but a small part of thy duty. The guard 
and the seamen are faithful?” 

“ They are certainly faithful.” 

“ Take from the Persian my signet, and hasten, for 
she begged it of me for an evil purpose. Put the 
guard — every man — under arms, and I myself will 
lead them. Open the brazen door and bid the seamen 
man the galley. Use the utmost speed — canst thou 
not hear the fighting ? And first the queen — and look 
to it that thou frighten her not. Let the command be 
a request.” 

Toxar again turned to go, but again his master checked 
him and said : 


154 


TOXAK. 


‘‘And bring to me ray god -bearer. If he spake 
truth, he is worth more than an army or a city. 
Hasten, look to his safety — but first the queen.” 

Again Toxar turned to go, but he had not reached 
the door when Antinous cried to him : 

“Is the priestess in truth the daughter of this bar- 
barian that threatens to take my city, if indeed it is 
not lost already ?” 

“ She is in truth his daughter, and his purpose is to 
rescue her or destroy her captors.” 

“Ah!” said Antinous, “then slay her with thine 
own hand. Thou dost not fear to shed the blood of 
one of thy race? Yet, perchance, pity may move 
thee.” 

The slave held out his twisted fingers and maimed 
hands, and said : “ The crooked claws of the eagle shall 
be more pitiful to the young lamb than these hands to 
the enemies of my master ” — he paused a little, and 
muttered, “ for the time being.” 

Then he departed before Antinous could again chide 
him for his ill-omened words. And, in truth, already 
the mind of Antinous was busy with matters of much 
more moment than the manner of a mad slave. 

Hever was a man quicker in thought or swifter in 
action than Antinous, and before the slave had reached 
the queen’s apartment his master had balanced his 
judgment and fixed his intents. 

First he would slay the woman who had befooled 
him. The Persian should never again deceive him or 
any other. Pride and jealousy drove out all remem- 
brance of love. Then his thoughts turned on the won- 
der of the living jewel,^and he no more disbelieved in 


A SLAVE’S OBEDIENCE. 


155 


its power. On the contrary, he now began to magnify 
its virtue, and to imagine how the owner might become 
the greatest of men living or dead. And was not the 
man his captive ? 

In spite of the tumult of the fighting, Antinous was 
lost in thought as he pictured to himself the marvellous 
uses to which the jewel might be turned. 

And he refiected with scorn on Telemos, who with 
such a gift had done nothing in his own behoof, and 
had not even foreseen his imprisonment. 

And Antinous gloried as he thought, even if his city 
were lost, that he would wander through the earth, like 
a hero who had ensnared a god and wished for and ob- 
tained a priceless boon. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

THE VENGEANCE OF ATOSSA. 

In the meantime, whilst Antinous was still planning 
wondrous deeds to be wrought by the aid of his god- 
bearer, Atossa had carried out her design. 

Telemos and Yelda had been bound hand and foot 
and placed by the man of means in a strongly-built 
chamber, which the king used as a secret prison. The 
door was made fast by heavy bolts, and for greater 
safety one of the faithful guards was stationed without. 

“Is this,” said Yelda to her fellow-prisoner, “the 
outcome of thy plan ? Methinks *now we cannot even 
escape by death itself,” and she strained with impo- 
tent fury at her fetters. 

“I am vexed most bitterly that they should have 
maltreated thee thus. For myself it was but a natural 
part of my scheme, and by design for thy safety I told 
thee nothing. But have patience and courage, and in 
a few short hours all will be well.” 

“ Alas,” she said, “ thy power is of no avail against 
stone and iron. And what was this cunning device ? 
For my part, open war — ” here she checked her 
speech. 

“ Thy kinsmen,” he said, “ could not with bare hands 
break through the walls and gates of this tyrant’s de- 
fences ; but by my aid,” he continued proudly, “ they 
are already within the city.” 


THE VENGEANCE OF ATOSSA. I57 

“ By thy aid ?” she asked, in wonder — “ and thou a 
prisoner?” 

“ Didst thou not see,” he said, “ the looks of the king 
and queen, of the people and of the soldiery, when I 
declared my prophecies ?” 

“Alas,” she said, “I understand not one word.” 

“But didst thou not see — surely so much the com- 
mon eye can see — that fear and doubt and horror sud- 
denly seized the assembly, and most of all the king 
and queen ?” 

“ So much I indeed saw, but there was an end.” 

“ Nay,” he said, with firmness, “ there was but the 
beginning. For by those few words I scattered dis- 
cord and treachery throughout the city, and by this 
time the whole colony is ablaze with rebellion.” 

“ But of what avail can that be to us ?” 

“ Already,” he said, “ the greater part of the mer- 
cenaries have revolted, and they have opened the 
gates.” 

“ Ah,” she sighed, “ forgive me. That was in truth 
a brave design, at the risk of thy life. Art thou sure ?” 
she whispered, as if afraid. “ Canst thou indeed look 
through these cruel walls ?” 

“ As easily,” he said, “ as thou canst hear the tramp 
of this soldier past the door.” 

“ Canst thou not,” she asked, “ if thy power is so 
great, bid him loosen our fetters ? They strangle my 
life.” 

“This man and his fellows,” he said, “still remain 
faithful to the tyrant — alone of all his hired bands.” 

“Thou hast, then, no power over him?” and she 
chafed at her bonds with ill-suppressed fury. 


158 


TOXAR. 


“ Alas, no,” he answered. But in a little while 
thou shalt be free and avenged. Look on me and take 
courage. See, I know perfectly, and I have no dread.” 

She turned her eyes to him, and on the instant, just 
as he had finished speaking, a look of terror crossed 
the face of Telemos. 

“ What is this ?” she asked. 

For answer he gave a great cry of pain, and shouted 
to the guard in his own tongue. “ I must speak with 
thee. Enter quickly. Dost thou not hear ? Haste, I 
say,, or it will be too late.” 

The man entered with a look of surprise on his face. 

With rapid vehemence Telemos addressed him : “If 
thou wouldst save thy life do my bidding. Above all, 
refuse admittance to this cruel Persian, the queen. Let 
her not enter, for thy life.” 

The soldier looked upon him with amazement, and 
said, “ Art thou mad, O soothsayer ? Truly, before I 
thought thee mad. The queen comes not.” 

“ I tell thee she comes with evil in her heart, and 
she brings the signet of Antinous ; but obey her not.” 

“ And I tell thee,” was the reply, “ that the queen 
comes not; but if she comes with authority, why 
should I do thy bidding and not my master’s ?” 

“ To save thy life,” said Telemos, hurriedly. “ The 
troops — all save thy company— rhave revolted. The 
barbarians are already within the gates. Stay with us, 
and listen not to this Persian, and thou shalt be safe.” 

“ Hast thou made an end ?” replied the man stolidly. 
“ I believe not in thy power, and if thou couldst search 
my heart thou wouldst know that thy words are vain. 
I obey Antinous to the death, treachery or no treachery.” 


THE VENGEANCE OF ATOSSA. 


159 


“ Alas,” said Telemos, “ thou hast spoken truly.” 
Even as he spoke light footsteps were heard approach- 
ing, and the guard rushed to the door. 

“Thou must do as I bid thee,” said the voice of 
Atossa, “ and this shall be thy warrant.” She showed 
him the signet ring, and gave the secret word. 

The soldier saluted her with respect, and the queen 
entered the chamber when she had learned that the 
prisoners were safely bound. 

As she entered, Telemos said hastily to Yelda, “ This 
evil woman comes to do me deadly harm, but thee she 
will not touch.” 

“What is thy fear?” she said. “Would that my 
right arm were free, and I — ” Again she struggled 
with her fetters. 

“ In vain, in vain,” he said. “ But tell me that thou 
wilt be glad to be free by my aid.” 

The tears stood in her eyes as she whispered, “I 
would give my life for thine. Will this woman dare 
to slay — ” 

But before she could make an end to her question- 
ing, Atossa suddenly addressed Telemos, who lay help- 
lessly on the ground, his eyes filled with fear and 
loathing. 

“ Dost thou foresee thine own doom, thou evil 
prophet ?” 

A look of despair crossed the captive’s face, and 
then he set himself, with steadfast courage, to battle 
with his fate. 

“ Thy plan,” he said, “ is as foolish as it is cruel.” 

Atossa seemed to heed him not, but said to the guar- 
dian, “ Bind him closer yet. Look to it well that he 


160 


TOXAR. 


cannot move.” The man did as he was bidden, and 
then she said to him : ‘‘ Now resume thj watch, and let 
none approach.” 

“ Stay,” said Telemos in despair, “ for thy life.” 

“ Go,” interrupted Atossa, “ and close the door. I 
would talk with this soothsayer alone.” 

When the soldier had gone and made fast the door, 
Atossa addressed Telemos, and said again : ‘‘ Dost thou 
foresee thy doom, thou evil prophet ? For the last time 
use thy power.” 

As she spoke she took from beneath her robe a sharp, 
glittering knife. 

Telemos made a last effort to move her from her 
purpose. “ Thou canst no more use the jewel as I do 
than thou canst pluck out the eye of the eagle and see 
with it.” 

Use thy power for the last time, and know that I 
believe thee not. I will rob thee of thy charm, and 
with it I will become the queen of the earth.” 

“ It is no charm ; it is part of my life, even as the 
eye or ear.” 

I believe thee not. Many are the virtues of pre- 
cious stones.” 

She came close to him, and he said rapidly : “ Touch 
me not, and I will tell thee a matter of the highest mo- 
ment. At this instant thy life is in danger.” 

“ Speak,” she said, and a look of fear clouded her eyes. 

I will not speak unless thou wilt do me no wrong.” 

“ I believe thee not,” said Atossa. “ The power is in 
the jewel and not in thee, and henceforth the power 
shall be mine.” 

She stooped over him with the sharp knife, and Tele- 


THE VENGEANCE OF ATOSSA. 


161 


inos knew that her will was as hard and cruel as the 
iron in her hand. Then he looked in her face with 
desperate courage and cried : 

“ Destroy my power — destroy my life ; but know for 
certain thou shalt die this very night.” 

The queen again showed signs of fear, but she 
wavered not in her resolution. 

With a trembling hand she took away the golden 
circlet, and then with a swift, sharp stroke she severed 
the jewel from its hold. 

So slight had been the bond of union with the slightly 
thickened skin that only one drop of blood marked the 
spot, and the scar was hardly to be seen. Yet the vic- 
tim gave a deep groan and became senseless. 

When the queen observed that the severance had left 
no wound, her heart leaped with gladness, and she said 
scornfully : 

“Couldst thou lose part of thy living body with- 
out a wound? Surely I knew the virtue lay in the 
stone.” 

But when Telemos still lay as one dead, she began to 
fear that in some way the loss of the jewel had slain 
him, and she dreaded the wrath of Antinous. And as 
she pondered, loud above the wild barbaric words that 
all the time Yelda helplessly cast about her, she heard 
the cries and shrieks that had alarmed Antinous, and 
announced the loss of the city. 

Hastily she summoned the guard and said : 

“ What is this tumult ?” 

“Methinks,” said the man, “to me the soothsayer 
spoke truth, and that the city is in the hands of the bar- 
barians.” 

11 


162 


TOXAR. 


Atossa trembled with new alarm, and said to the 
guard : 

“ I go to the king. Look thou to thy prisoners. Or 
if thou, too, wouldst go, loosen this raging woman, and 
let her tend on the soothsayer; for he must not die.” 

She left the man wondering, and, as he was bidden, 
he released Yelda and took away the bonds from Tel- 
emos. Then he brought wine and food, and as the up- 
roar without increased, he fastened the door and left 
the captives alone. 

And as soon as Telemos had lost the power which 
Velda had so much dreaded, the heart of the untamed 
barbarian was filled with love and pity. With gentle 
words and timid caresses she tried to recall his senses, 
and heedless of the war-cries which announced the vic- 
tory of her kinsmen, she gave herself to the care of her 
liberator. 


! 


CHAPTER XXiy. 

A DEAD CHARM. 


Atossa passed quickly to her own apartment, and 
dismissed her attendants. She placed herself before a 
mirror of shining brass, and hastened to make trial of 
the virtue of the stolen jewel. She believed in all sim- 
plicity that as soon as she had put on her brow the 
golden circlet, and fastened in the midst of it the won- 
drous stone, she would be able to search out all the se- 
crets of every heart. Xo doubt troubled her mind, and 
no fear perplexed her resolution, as she swiftly deter- 
mined to essay her new power first of all on Antinous. 
She paused for a moment and held up the jewel close 
to the light of a hanging lamp. And as she looked on 
its marvellous beauty, and marked the colors changing 
and gleaming like an indescribable union of the glories 
of the most precious gems, she was dazzled by the sight, 
and, lost in admiration, almost forgot her task. 

But the uproar in the city came nearer and nearer, 
and loudly summoned her to instant action. 

Straightway she cunningly fastened the jewel in the 
midst of the golden circlet with the finest golden 
threads, and then she placed upon her head the crown 
of mystic power. And in spite of the growing tumult 
she stood for a time looking at her image in the shin- 
ing mirror, and she thought in her heart that never had 
any adornment so much enhanced her beauty. 


164 


TOXAR. 


But again the uproar from without broke in rudely 
upon her musing, and bade her at once essay her power. 

And she rapidly turned her mind upon Antinous, 
and sought to read the secret of his heart. 

She waited, full of wonder and confidence, for the 
power of the jewel to unfold. She looked with her 
charm towards his chamber, but she found him not, 
and with it she sought him throughout the city, but she 
could not pierce the narrow walls of her apartment. 

She turned again to the shining mirror, and tried to 
drive away her rising fear with the gleaming wonders 
of the jewel. She pressed it closer to her brow, and 
strained the golden threads to breaking, and still she 
saw nothing save what she saw with her eyes. A sud- 
den dread seized her that the soothsayer had spoken 
truth ; and his warning of her coming death made her 
tremble with affright. 

The sounds of battle came nearer and nearer, and she 
knew not what to do. The golden circlet weighed 
upon her like a heavy stone, and the jewel seemed to 
burn her brow. 

She laid them aside. Suddenly a ray of hope shot 
through the blackness — perchance, to show its power, 
the jewel must be closer to the living flesh. With a 
firm hand she tore away a shred of the outer skin on 
her brow, and pressed the jewel to the smarting wound. 
But still she saw nothing save what she saw with her 
eyes, and she knew of a surety that Telemos had spoken 
the truth. 

And if confirmation were needed, confirmation was 
at hand, for the man of means came to summon her to 
Antinous, and in vain she tried to read the inner mean- 


A DEAD CHARM. 165 

ing of his deferential request, as she gave up to him 
the signet. 

She had little time to devise new counsel, but thrice 
before, in her peril, she had conquered Antinous with 
her native guile, and she hoped once again for victory. 

She salved the torn skin with an Eastern medica- 
ment, and again placed on her head the golden circlet, 
and pressed to her brow the shining jewel. 

“ He, at least,” she said fiercely, “ shall believe in 
my power, until I have escaped from this danger. 
And if need be he shall die by my hand, and I will 
fiee away alone with the treasure in the ship.” 

And again she set herself to play her part bravely, 
and, like a queen crowned for a triumph, she went to 
seek her lord. 


CHAPTER XXY. 

TARDY FATE. 

As she entered his chamber, Antinous gazed upon 
her with astonishment, and though the fact stared him 
in the face, he knew it not. He saw on her head a 
band of gold and a wondrous jewel, marvellously like 
to that of his god-bearer — only marvellously like — 
that was the thought of the moment. 

Then, as he looked again, the truth struck him as 
with a sudden blow. 

“ Thou hast not dared — ” he began ; and his voice 
was choked with boundless vexation and anger. 

Atossa looked upon him boldly, in spite of the cold 
fear at her heart, and her lips seemed to smile and her 
eyes to shine with the love of a petulant maiden. 

“ Thou didst put the man in my power — that thou 
canst not deny — to do as I would with him, if I but 
spared his life.” 

“ Then thou hast done it,” he said fiercely, “ though 
the man’s life without his power is of no worth.” 

Atossa made a last effort, and laughed aloud. 

‘‘ Be not so angry. The man was thine enemy and 
mine, and he confessed to me that the jewel was a 
charm, and gave its power to any wearer. Therefore 
I took it from him, and I will give it thee for a gift.” 

But Antinous said : 

‘‘Thou canst no more use the virtue of the jewel 


TARDY FATE. 


161 


than thou canst see with an eye stolen from the eagle. 
Try thy power, and see what mean these shrieks and 
this tumult.” 

She trembled to hear from Antinous the very words 
of Telemos, and the omen seemed evil. 

But as she listened to the fighting, which now seemed 
close to the palace, she remembered the words of the 
guard, and said boldly : 

‘‘ Alas ! the barbarians are within the gates, and the 
city is in danger.” 

“ The city,” said Antinous, “ is in danger — that is 
plain to the common ear. But now discover the secret 
thought of my heart, and then I will believe thy story.” 

She looked bravely into his eyes, as if she would 
compel him to burn as of old with love for her. And 
in a gentle, «oothing voice, she said to him : “ Thou art 
thinking, dearest love, that we shall sail away together 
to a distant land, and build a great city, and forget the 
ills of the old life in the pleasures of the new. We 
have long years before us and much treasure, and above 
all the wonderful power of this jewel. Therefore, thy 
heart is full of love and hope. Say, have I not spoken 
truly?” 

And as she spoke she came close to him, and held 
out her arms to embrace him. 

And even then Antinous was almost conquered, and 
he refused not her embrace. But on the instant that 
her lips touched his a blaze of jealous anger fired his 
slumbering purpose, and even as she kissed him he 
drew his dagger, and beneath the shoulder struck her 
to the heart. 

‘‘ Thou liest !” he cried out. 


168 


TOXAR. 


“ Ah ! Life, life !” she murmured, and fell dead at 
his feet. 

And as she fell the jewel dropped from the circlet, 
and in his anger Antinous crushed it with his heel, and 
it was shivered to little pieces. 

And a vision passed before him of the violated tomb 
and the broken jewel, and he laughed with proud scorn, 
and said to himself : ‘‘ If I believed in omens this surely 
were a happy accident. For before it boded the death 
of mine enemy And doubtless my man of means will 
quickly come and tell me that he has avenged me on 
these barbarians by the death of the woman. And then 
I will flee away, if the city is certainly lost.” 

And as he muttered to himself, and, looking on the 
beauty of Atossa, already regretted that he had lost 
her love forever, the man of means entered. 

He looked gaunt and grim, and his eyes seemed to 
have lost their unsteady fluttering, and to shine with a 
stern, savage light. 

In his hand he bore a barbaric battle-axe smeared 
with blood. 

“Ha!” said Antinous, “thou hast already revenged 
me on one woman as I myself on another,” and he 
pointed to the Persian. 

The man of means looked on the dead queen and 
muttered to himself : “ Often has she, too, called me 
slave, and now she, too, is dead.” 

And Antinous said : “ Hast thou obeyed all my com- 
mands ?” 

“ I have obeyed the commands of my master — but 
one task yet remains,” and he brandished his weapon 
with rapid sweeps of the arm. 


TARDY FATE. 


169 


“ And what,” asked Antinous, “ hast thou left un- 
done? It was useless to bring the maimed trunk of 
the god-bearer, for this woman had stolen his power.” 

“ One task yet remains,” said the slave fiercely. 

“ Come,” said Antinous, “ it is high time to fight or 
to flee; is this danger too much for thy broken spirit?” 

As he spoke he moved towards the door, but the 
huge barbarian stood in his way and shook his axe in 
his face. 

“ Art thou mad, my man of means ?” 

The man eyed him for the first time with open 
scorn and hatred, and cried with a loud voice : 

“ Thy city, little tyrant, is lost, and thy wealth is 
another’s, and thy slave is another’s. By the law of 
conquest, O most wise philosopher, I have become 
man of means to thy conqueror, and now I will do his 
bidding — not thine, puny Greekling. But before I 
slay thee, know that Yelda, my king’s daughter, is 
safe, and thy guards are scattered and destroyed, and 
thy galley, with its treasure, is also taken. And now, 
die in thy shame.” 

“Traitorous dog!” cried Antinous, and though his 
only weapon was the dagger, with which he had slain 
the Persian, he set himself bravely to wait the attack 
of the slave. 

But with the first rush the man of means dashed 
aside his arm, and with his axe crashed through head 
and neck. 

And Antinous fell dead on the body of Atossa, and 
Toxar gloried over them with savage exultation. 

“ Thus thou, too, hast perished, the last of my mas- 
ters. And now methinks my spirit is healed and I will 


170 


TOXAR. 


go back to the forests of my youth a free man, with 
shield and spear, and no more a man of means to an- 
other. And well did I learn the crafty learning of 
these crafty Greeks, and well did I become their per- 
fect slave. Yet did I play with their lives as a maiden 
plays with a ball. And all my masters have perished 
by my means, and I have made sport of them and be- 
fooled them to the end, and the very fulfilment of 
their desires has been their destruction. But most of 
all I hated thee, thou shifty Greek, and many a time I 
almost gave up my sport to slay thee before the ful- 
ness of time. Dead thou art, and a grim welcome wilt 
thou deserve from the dead. And as for me, I have 
avenged my years of slavery.” 

And therewith he broke into a wild chant of daring 
and victory, and answered back, with loud shouts, the 
tumultuous battle-cries of the barbarians. 

And his tribesmen found him raging with madness ; 
and not till long after they had reached their own land 
did his frenzy leave him. And he remembered noth- 
ing of the past save his skill in various crafts, and he 
knew not that he had been a slave of the Greeks. But 
as is the custom with the barbarians, he was treated 
with great honor and reverence, on account of his mad- 
ness and his wonderful knowledge. 


EPILOGUE. 

“And here,” said Xenophilos, “I had ended my 
narrative, for I had once more shown to my liking the 
weakness of man and the infinite mysteries of nature. 
But the youngest of the young men, my favorite, said 
to me : ‘ O master, may I ask thee one little question, 
of no great import, for in my youthful foolishness I 
have listened more to the story than to the lesson.’ 
‘ Speak,’ I said, ‘ the lesson is nought but the old weary 
burden of the poets, and that thou wilt learn of life 
itself. Speak, what is thy question ?’ ” 

“ Tell me,” he said, “had the children of Yelda and 
Telemos the strange power of the father?” 

“ The first-born, a boy,” I replied, “ had a tiny scar 
on his brow, but no jewel ; and the others had not even 
a trace of the mark. And Yelda was highly pleased 
thereat — Telemos not.” 


THE END. 






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